4 


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THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 


OTHER  BOOKS 

BY 

PETER  B.  KYNE 


KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 
CAPPY  RICKS 
CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 
LONG  CHANCE,  THE 
THREE  GODFATHERS,  THE 
VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS,  THE 
WEBSTER,  MAN'S  MAN 


THE   MAN DON    MIGUEL    PARREL 


The 

Pride  of  Palomar 


By 

Peter  B.  >Kyne 

Author  of 
Kindred  of  the  Dust,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

H.   R.   BALLINGER 

and 
DEAN  CORNWELL 


NEW    YORK 


MCMXXI 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
PETER  B.  KYNE 

All  Rights  'Reserved,  including  that  of  translation! 

into  foreign  languages,  including 

the  Scandinavian. 


Printed  in  U.S.  A. 

GIFI 


DEDICATION 


-ft/ 


FRANK   JL.    MTJLGREW,    ESQ. 
THE    BOHEMIAN    CLUB 

SAN    FRANCISCO,    CALIFORNIA 

DEAR    FRIEND    MITL. 

I  have  at  last  finished  writing  "The  Pride  of 
Palomar."  It  isn't  at  all  what  I  wanted  it  to  be;  it 
isn't  at  all  what  I  planned  it  to  be,  but  it  does  contain 
something  of  what  you  and  I  both  feel,  something  of 
what  you  wanted  me  to  put  into  it.  Indeed,  I  shall  al 
ways  wish  to  think  that  it  contains  just  a  few  faint  little 
echoes  of  the  spirit  of  that  old  California  that  was 
fast  vanishing  when  I  first  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the 
Mission  Dolores  with  infantile  shrieks — when  you  first 
gazed  upon  the  redwood-studded  hills  of  Sonoma 
County. 

You  adventured  with  me  in  my  quest  for  local  color 
for  "The  Valley  of  the  Giants,"  in  Northern  California ; 
3^ou  performed  a  similar  service  in  Southern  California 
last  summer  and  unearthed  for  me  more  local  color, 
more  touches  of  tender  sentiment  than  I  could  use. 
Therefore,  "The  Pride  of  Palomar"  is  peculiarly  your 
book. 

On  a  day  a  year  ago,  when  the  story  was  still  so 
vague  I  could  scarcely  find  words  in  which  to  sketch 
for  you  an  outline  of  the  novel  I  purposed  writing,  you 

v 

107 


vi  DEDICATION 

said :  "It  will  be  a  good  story.  I'm  sold  on  it  already !" 
To  you  the  hacienda  of  a  Rancho  Palomar  will  always 
bring  delightful  recollections  of  the  gracious  hospitality 
of  Senor  Cave  Coutts,  sitting  at  the  head  of  that  table 
hewed  in  the  forties.  Little  did  Senor  Coutts  realize 
that  he,  the  last  of  the  dons  in  San  Diego  County,  was 
to  furnish  copy  for  my  novel ;  that  his  pride  of  ancestry  $ 
both  American  and  Castilian,  his  love  for  his  ancestral 
hacienda  at  the  Rancho  Guajome,  and  his  old-fashioned 
garden  with  the  great  Bougainvillea  in  flower,  were  the 
ingredients  necessary  to  the  production  of  what  I  trust 
will  be  a  book  with  a  mission. 

When  we  call  again  at  the  Moreno  hacienda  on  the 
Rio  San  Luis  Rey,  Carolina  will  not  be  there  to  meta 
morphose  her  home  into  a  restaurant  and  serve  us  gal- 
Ima  con  arroz,  tortillas  and  frijoles  refrilos.  But  if  she 
should  be,  she  will  not  answer,  when  asked  the  amount 
of  the  score:  "What  you  will,  senor."  Ah,  no,  Mul. 
Scoundrels  devoid  of  romance  will  have  discovered  her, 
and  she  will  have  opened  an  inn  with  a  Jap  cook  and 
the  tariff  will  be  dos  pesos  y  media;  there  will  be  a 
strange  waiter  and  he  will  scowl  at  us  and  expect  a 
large  tip.  And  Stephen  Crane's  brother,  the  genial 
judge,  will  have  mad£  his  fortune  in  the  mine  on  the  hill, 
and  there  will  be  no  more  California  wine  as  a  first 
aid  to  digestion. 

I  had  intended  to  paint  the  picture  that  will  remain 
longest  in  your  memory — the  dim  candle-light  in  the 
white-washed  chapel  at  the  Indian  Reservation  at  Pala, 
during  Benediction  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament — the 
young  Indian  Madonna,  with  her  naked  baby  lying  in 
her  lap,  while  she  sang: 


DEDICATION  vii 

"Come,  Holy  Ghost,  creator  blest, 
And  in  my  heart  take  up  thy  rest." 

But  the  picture  was  crowded  out  in  the  make-up.  There 
was  too  much  to  write  about,  and  I  was  always  over 
set  !  I  saw  and  felt,  with  you,  and  regarded  it  as  more 
poignantly  pathetic,  the  tragedy  of  that  little  handful 
of  San  Luisanos,  herded  away  in  the  heart  of  those 
barren  hills  to  make  way  for  the  white  man.  And  now 
the  white  man  is  almost  gone  and  Father  Dominic's 
Angelus,  ringing  from  Mission  San  Luis  Key,  falls  up 
on  the  dull  ear  of  a  Japanese  farmer,  usurping  that 
sweet  valley,  hallowed  by  sentiment,  by  historical  asso 
ciation,  by  the  live's  and  loves  and  ashes  of  the  men 
and  women  who  carved  California  from  the  wilderness. 

I  have  given  to  this  book  the  labor  of  love.  I  know 
it  isn't  literature,  Mul,  but  I  have  joyed  in  writing 
it  and  it  has,  at  least,  the  merit  of  sincerity.  It  is  an 
expression  of  faith  and  for  all  its  faults  and  imper 
fections,  I  think  you  will  find,  tucked  away  in  it  some 
where,  a  modicum  of  merit.  I  have  tried  to  limn  some 
thing,  however  vague,  of  the  beauty  of  the  land  we 
saw  through  boyish  eyes  before  the  real  estate  agent 
had  profaned  it. 

You  were  born  with  a  great  love,  a  great  reverence 
for  beauty.  That  must  be  because  you  were  born  in 
Sonoma  County  in  the  light  of  God's  smile.  Each 
spring  in  California  the  dogwood  blossoms  are,  for  you, 
a  creamier  white,  the  buckeye  blossoms  more  numerous 
and  fragrant,  the  hills  a  trifle  greener  and  the  old  order, 
the  old  places,  the  old  friends  a  little  dearer. 

Wherefore,  with  much  appreciation  of  your  aid  in 


viii  DEDICATION 

its   creation   and   of  your  unfaltering  friendship   and 
affection,  I  dedicate  "The  Pride  of  Palomar"  to  you. 

Faithfully, 

PETER  B.  KYNE. 

SAN   FRANCISCO 
JUNE  9,  1921. 


Acknowledgment  is  made  of  the  indebtedness  of  the 
author  for  much  of  the  material  used  in  this  book  to 
Mr.  Montaville  Flowers,  author  of  "The  Japanese  Con 
quest  of  American  Opinion.'' 

p.  B.   K. 


THE     ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Man — Don  Miguel  Farrel     .      .      .      .    Frontispiece 


PACING 
PAGE 


Here  amidst  the  golden  romance  of  the  old  mission, 

the  girl  suddenly  understood  Don  Mike     .      .      .      182 


The  Girl— Kay  Parker 278 


THE  PRIDE  of  PALOMAR 


FOR  the  first  time  in  sixty  years,  Pablo  Artelan, 
the  majordomo  of  the  Rancho  Palomar,  was 
troubled  of  soul  a't  the  approach  of  winter.  Old  Don 
Miguel  Farrel  had  observed  signs  of  mental  travail 
in  Pablo  for  a  month  past,  and  was  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  them.  He  knew  Pablo  possessed  one  extra  pair 
of  overalls,  brand-new,  two  pairs  of  boots  which  young 
Don  Miguel  had  bequeathed  him  when  the  Great  White 
Father  at  Washington  had  summoned  the  boy  to  the 
war  in  April  of  1917,  three  chambray  shirts  in  an 
excellent  state  of  repair,  half  of  a  fat  steer  jerked, 
a  full  bag  of  T3ayo  beans,  and  a  string  of  red  chilli- 
peppers  pendant  from  the  rafters  of  an  adobe  shack 
which  Pablo  and  his  wife,  Carolina,  occupied  rent  free. 
Certainly  (thought  old  Don  Miguel)  life  could  hold  no 
problems  for  one  of  Pablo's  race  thus  pleasantly  situ 
ated. 

Coming  upon  Pablo  this  morning,  as  the  latter  sat 
in  his  favorite  seat  under  the  catalpa  tree  just  outside 
the  wall  of  the  ancient  adobe  compound,  where  he 
could  command  a  view  of  the  white  wagon-road  wind- 

1 


2  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ing  down  the  valley  of  the  San  Gregorio,  Don  Miguel 
decided  to  question  his  ancient  retainer. 

"My  good  Pablo,"  he  queried,  "what  has  come  over 
thee  of  late?  Thou  art  of  a  mien  as  sorrowful  as 
that  of  a  sick  steer.  Can  it  be  that  thy  stomach  re 
fuses  longer  to  digest  thy  food?  Come;  permit  me  to 
examine  thy  teeth.  Yes,  by  my  soul;  therein  lies  the 
secret.  Thou  hast  a  toothache  and  decline  to  com 
plain,  thinking  that,  by  thy  silence,  I  shall  be  saved  a 
dentist's  bill."  But  Pablo  shook  his  head  in  negation. 
"Come !"  roared  old  Don  Miguel.  "Open  thy  mouth !" 

Pablo  rose  creakily  and  opened  a  mouth  in  which 
not  a  tooth  was  missing.  Old  Don  Miguel  made  a 
most  minute  examination,  but  failed  to  discover  the 
slightest  evidence  of  deterioration. 

"Blood  of  the  devil!"  he  cried,  disgusted  beyond 
measure.  "Out  with  thy  secret  1  It  has  annoyed  me 
for  a  month." 

"The  ache  is  not  in  my  teeth,  Don  Miguel.  It  is 
here."  And  Pablo  laid  a  swarthy  hand  upon  his  torso. 
"There  is  a  sadness  in  my  heart,  Don  Miguel.  Two 
years  has  Don  Mike  been  with  the  soldiers.  Is  it  not 
time  that  he  returned  to  us?" 

Don  Miguel's  aristocratic  old  face  softened. 

"So  that  is  what  disturbs  thee,  my  Pablo?" 

Pablo  nodded  miserably,  seated  himself,  and  resumed 
his  task  of  fashioning  the  hondo  of  a  new  rawhide 
riata. 

"It  is  a  very  dry  year,"  he  complained.  "Never  be 
fore  have  I  seen  December  arrive  ere  the  grass  in  the 
San  Gregorio  was  green  with  the  October  rains. 
Everything  is  burned ;  the  streams  and  the  springs  have 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  3 

'dried  up,  and  for  a  month  I  have  listened  to  hear  the 
quail  call  on  the  hillside  yonder.  But  I  listen  in  vain. 
The  quail  have  moved  to  another  range." 

"Well,  what  of  it,  Pablo?" 

"How  our  beloved  Don  Mike  enjoyed  the  quail- 
shooting  in  the  fall !  Should  he  return  now  to  the 
Palomar,  there  will  be  no  quail  to  shoot."  He  wagged 
his  gray  head  sorrowfully.  "Don  Mike  will  think 
that,  with  the  years,  laziness  and  ingratitude  have  de 
scended  upon  old  Pablo.  Truly,  Satan  afflicts  me." 
And  he  cursed  with  great  depth  of  feeling — in  English. 

"Yes,  poor  boy,"  old  Don  Miguel  agreed;  "he  will 
miss  more  than  the  quail-shooting  when  he  returns — if 
he  should  return.  They  sent  him  to  Siberia  to  fight 
the  Bolsheviki." 

"What  sort  of  country  is  this  where  Don  Mike  slays 
our  enemy?"  Pablo  queried. 

"It  is  always  winter  there,  Pablo.  It  is  inhabited 
by  a  wild  race  of  men  with  much  whiskers." 

"Ah,  our  poor  Don  Mike!  And  he  a  child  of  the 
sun!" 

"He  but  does  his  duty,"  old  Don  Miguel  replied 
proudly.  "He  adds  to  the  fame  of  an  illustrious  fam 
ily,  noted  throughout  the  centuries  for  the  gallantry 
of  its  warriors." 

"A  small  comfort,  Don  Miguel,  if  our  Don  Mike 
comes  not  again  to  those  that  love  him." 

"Pray  for  him,"  the  old  Don  suggested  piously. 

Fell  a  silence.     Then, 

"Don  Miguel,  yonder  comes  one  over  the  trail  from 
El  Toro." 

Don  Miguel  gazed  across  the  valley  to  the  crest  of 


4  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  hills.  There,  against  the  sky-line,  a  solitary  horse 
man  showed.  Pablo  cupped  his  hands  over  his  eyes 
and  gazed  long  and  steadily. 

"It  is  Tony  Moreno,"  he  said,  while  the  man  was 
still  a  mile  distant.  "I  know  that  scuffling  cripple  of 
a  horse  he  rides." 

Don  Miguel  seated  himself  on  the  bench  beside  Pablo 
and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  horseman.  As  he  drew 
nearer,  the  Don  saw  that  Pablo  was  right. 

"Now,  what  news  does  that  vagabond  bear?"  he 
muttered.  "Assuredly  he  brings  a  telegram;  other 
wise  the  devil  himself  could  not  induce  that  lazy  wastrel 
to  ride  twenty  miles." 

"Of  a  truth  you  are  right,  Don  Miguel.  Tony 
Moreno  is  the  only  man  in  El  Toro  who  is  forever  out 
of  a  job,  and  the  agent  of  the  telegraph  company  calls 
upon  him  always  to  deliver  messages  of  importance." 

With  the  Don,  he  awaited,  with  vague  apprehension, 
the  arrival  of  Tony  Moreno.  As  the  latter  pulled  his 
sweating  horse  up  before  them,  they  rose  and  gazed 
upon  him  questioningly.  Tony  Moreno,  on  his  part, 
doffed  his  shabby  sombrero  with  his  right  hand  and 
murmured  courteously, 

"Buenas  tardes,  Don  Miguel." 

Pablo  he  ignored.  With  his  left  hand,  he  caught  a 
yellow  envelope  as  it  fell  from  under  the  hat. 

"Good-afternoon,  Moreno."  Don  Miguel  returned 
his  salutation  with  a  gravity  he  felt  incumbent  upon 
one  of  his  station  to  assume  when  addressing  a  social 
inferior.  "You  bring  me  a  telegram?"  He  spoke  in 
English,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  indicating  to  the  mes 
senger  that  the  gulf  between  them  could  not  be  spanned 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  5 

by  the  bridge  of  their  mother  tongue.  He  suspected 
Tony  Moreno  very  strongly  of  having  stolen  a  yearling 
from  him  many  years  ago. 

Tony  Moreno  remembered  his  manners,  and  dis 
mounted  before  handing  Don  Miguel  the  telegram. 

"The  delivery  charges?"  Don  Miguel  queried  cour 
teously. 

"Nothing,  Don  Miguel."  Moreno's  voice  was 
strangely  subdued.  "It  is  a  pleasure  to  serve  you, 
senor." 

"You  are  very  kind.'*  And  Don  Miguel  thrust  the 
telegram,  unopened,  into  his  pocket.  "However,"  he 
continued,  "it  will  please  me,  Moreno,  if  you  accept  this 
slight  token  of  my  appreciation."  And  he  handed  the 
messenger  a  five-dollar  bill.  The  don  was  a  proud 
man,  and  disliked  being  under  obligation  to  the  Tony 
Morenos  of  this  world.  Tony  protested,  but  the  don 
stood  his  ground,  silently  insistent,  and,  in  the  end, 
the  other  pouched  the  bill,  and  rode  away.  Don 
Miguel  seated  himself  once  more  beside  his  retainer  and 
drew  forth  the  telegram. 

"It  must  be  evil  news,"  he  murmured,  with  the  shade 
of  a  tremor  in  his  musical  voice ;  "otherwise,  that  fellow 
could  not  have  felt  so  much  pity  for  me  that  it  moved 
him  to  decline  a  gratuity." 

"Read,  Don  Miguel!"  Pablo  croaked.    "Read!" 

Don  Miguel  read.  Then  he  carefully  folded  the  tele 
gram  and  replaced  it  in  the  envelope;  as  deliberately, 
he  returned  the  envelope  to  his  pocket.  Suddenly  his 
hands  gripped  the  bench,  and  he  trembled  violently. 

"Don  Mike  is  dead?"  old  Pablo  queried  softly.  He 
possessed  all  the  acute  intuition  of  a  primitive  people. 


6  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Don  Miguel  did  not  reply ;  so  presently  Pablo  turned 
his  head  and  gazed  up  into  the  master's  face.  Then 
he  knew — his  fingers  trembled  slightly  as  he  returned 
to  work  on  the  hondo,  and,  for  a  long  time,  no  sound 
broke  the  silence  save  the  song  of  an  oriole  in  the  ca- 
talpa  tree. 

Suddenly,  the  sound  for  which  old  Pablo  had  waited 
so  long  burst  forth  from  the  sage-clad  hillside.  It 
was  a  cock  quail  calling,  and,  to  the  majordomo,  it 
seemed  to  say:  "Don  Mike!  Come  home!  Don  Mike! 
Come  home!" 

"Ah,  little  truant,  who  has  told  you  that  you  are 
safe?"  Pablo  cried  in  agony.  "For  Don  Mike  shall 
not  come  home — no,  no — never  any  more!" 

His  Indian  stoicism  broke  at  last;  he  clasped  his 
hands  and  fell  to  his  knees  beside  the  bench,  sobbing 
aloud. 

Don  Miguel  regarded  him  not,  and  when  Pablo's  bab 
bling  became  incoherent,  the  aged  master  of  Palomar 
controlled  his  twitching  hands  sufficiently  to  roll  and 
light  a  cigarette.  Then  he  reread  the  telegram. 

Yes;  it  was  true.  It  was  from  Washington,  and 
signed  by  the  adjutant-general;  it  informed  Don 
Miguel  Jose  Farrel,  with  regret,  that  his  son,  First 
Sergeant  Miguel  Jose  Maria  Federico  Noriaga  Farrel, 
Number  765,438,  had  been  killed  in  action  in  Siberia  on 
the  fourth  instant. 

"At  least,"  the  old  don  murmured,  "he  died  like  a 
gentleman.  Had  he  returned  to  the  Rancho  Palomar, 
he  could  not  have  continued  to  live  like  one.  Oh,  my 
son,  my  son!" 

He  rose  blindly  and  groped  his  way  along  the  wall 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  7 

until  he  came  to  the  inset  gate  leading  into  the  patio ; 
like  a  stricken  animal  retreating  to  its  lair,  he  sought 
the  privacy  of  his  old-fashioned  garden,  where  none 
might  intrude  upon  his  grief. 


n 


FIRST  SERGEANT  MICHAEL  JOSEPH  FAR- 
REL  entered  the  orderly-room  and  saluted  his 
captain,  who  sat,  with  his  chair  tilted  back,  staring 
mournfully  at  the  opposite  wall. 

"I  have  to  report,  sir,  that  I  have  personally  de 
livered  the  battery  records,  correctly  sorted,  labeled, 
and  securely  crated,  to  the  demobilization  office.  The 
typewriter,  field-desk,  and  stationery  have  been  turned 
in,  and  here  are  the  receipts." 

The  captain  tucked  the  receipts  in  his  blouse  pocket. 

"Well,  Sergeant,  I  dare  say  that  marks  the  comple 
tion  of  your  duties — all  but  the  last  formation."  He 
glanced  at  his  wrist-watch.  "Fall  in  the  battery  and 
call  the  roll.  By  that  time,  I  will  have  organized  my 
farewell  speech  to  the  men.  Hope  I  can  deliver  it  with 
out  making  a  fool  of  myself." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

The  first  sergeant  stepped  out  of  the  orderly-room 
and  blew  three  long  blasts  on  his  whistle — his  signal  to 
the  battery  to  "'fall  in."  The  men  came  out  of  the 
demobilization-shacks  with  alacrity  and  formed  within 
a  minute;  without  command,  they  "dressed"  to  the 
right  and  straightened  the  line.  Farrel  stepped  to  the 
right  of  it,  glanced  down  the  long  row  of  silent,  eager 
men,  and  commanded, 

"Front!" 

8 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  9 

Nearly  two  hundred  heads  described  a  quarter  circle. 

Farrel  stepped  lithely  down  the  long  front  to  the 
geometrical  center  of  the  formation,  made  a  right- 
face,  walked  six  paces,  executed  an  about-face,  and 
announced  complainingly : 

"Well,  Fve  barked  at  you  for  eighteen  months — 
and  finally  you  made  it  snappy.  On  the  last  day  of 
your  service,  you  manage  to  fall  in  within  the  time- 
limit  and  dress  the  line  perfectly.  I  congratulate 
you."  Covert  grins  greeted  his  ironical  sally.  He  con 
tinued  :  "I'm  going  to  say  good-by  to  those  of  you  who 
think  there  are  worse  tops  in  the  service  than  I.  To 
those  who  did  not  take  kindly  to  my  methods,  I  have 
no  apologies  to  offer.  I  gave  everybody  a  square  deal, 
and  for  the  information  of  some  half-dozen  Hot-spurs 
who  have  vowed  to  give  me  the  beating  of  my  life  the 
day  we  should  be  demobilized,  I  take  pleasure  in  an 
nouncing  that  I  will  be  the  first  man  to  be  discharged, 
that  there  is  a  nice  clear  space  between  these  two  de 
mobilization-shacks  and  the  ground  is  not  too  hard, 
that  there  will  be  no  guards  to  interfere,  and  if  any 
man  with  the  right  to  call  himself  'Mister'  desires  to 
air  his  grievance,  he  can  make  his  engagement  now, 
and  I  shall  be  at  his  service  at  the  hour  stipulated. 
Does  anybody  make  me  an  offer?"  He  stood  there, 
balanced  nicely  on  the  balls  of  his  feet,  cool,  alert, 
glancing  interestedly  up  and  down  the  battery  front. 
"What?"  he  bantered,  "nobody  bids?  Well,  I'm  glad 
of  that.  I  part  friends  with  everybody.  Call  rolls !" 

The  section-chiefs  called  the  rolls  of  their  sections 
and  reported  them  present.  Farrel  stepped  to  the 
door  of  the  orderly-room. 


10  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"The  men  are  waiting  for  the  captain,"  he  reported. 

"Sergeant  Farrel,"  that  bedeviled  individual  replied 
frantically,  "I  can't  do  it.  You'll  have  to  do  it  for 
me." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  understand." 

Farrel  returned  to  the  battery,  brought  them  to  at 
tention,  and  said: 

"The  skipper  wants  to  say  good-by,  men,  but  he 
isn't  up  to  the  job.  He's  afraid  to  tackle  it;  so  he 
has  asked  me  to  wish  you  light  duty,  heavy  pay,  and 
double  rations  in  civil  life.  He  has  asked  me  to  say 
to  you  that  he  loves  you  all  and  will  not  soon  forget 
such  soldiers  as  you  have  proved  yourselves  to  be." 

"Three  for  the  Skipper!  Give  him  three  and  a 
tiger!"  somebody  pleaded,  and  the  cheers  were  given 
with  a  hearty  generosity  which  even  the  most  disgrun 
tled  organization  can  develop  on  the  day  of  demobiliza 
tion. 

The  skipper  came  to  the  door  of  the  orderly-room. 

"Good-by,  good  luck,  and  God  bless  you,  lads!"  he 
shouted,  and  fled  with  the  discharges  under  his  arm, 
while  the  battery  "counted  off,"  and,  in  command  of 
Farrel  (the  lieutenants  had  already  been  demobilized), 
marched  to  the  pay-tables.  As  they  emerged  from 
the  paymaster's  shack,  they  scattered  singly,  in  little 
groups,  back  to  the  demobilization-shacks.  Presently, 
bearing  straw  suitcases,  "tin"  helmets,  and  gas-masks 
(these  latter  articles  presented  to  them  by  a  paternal 
government  as  souvenirs  of  their  service),  they  drifted 
out  through  the  Presidio  gate,  where  the  world  swal 
lowed  them. 

Although  he  had  been  the  first  man  in  the  battery 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P ALOMAR  11 

to  receive  his  discharge,  Farrel  was  the  last  man  to 
leave  the  Presidio.  He  waited  until  the  captain,  hav 
ing  distributed  the  discharges,  came  out  of  the  pay- 
office  and  repaired  again  to  his  deserted  orderly-room ; 
whereupon  the  former  first  sergeant  followed  him. 

"I  hesitate  to  obtrude,  sir,"  he  announced,  as  he 
entered  the  room,  "but  whether  the  captain  likes  it  or 
not,  he'll  have  to  say  good-by  to  me.  I  have  attended 
to  everything  I  can  think  of,  sir;  so,  unless  the  cap 
tain  has  some  further  use  for  me,  I  shall  be  jogging 
along." 

"Farrel,"  the  captain  declared,  "if  I  had  ever  had 
a  doubt  as  to  why  I  made  you  top  cutter  of  B  battery, 
that  last  remark  of  yours  would  have  dissipated  it. 
Please  do  not  be  in  a  hurry.  Sit  down  and  mourn  with 
me  for  a  little  while." 

"Well,  I'll  sit  down  with  you,  sir,  but  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I'll  be  mournful.  I'm  too  happy  in  the  knowledge 
that  I'm  going  home." 

"Where  is  your  home,  sergeant?" 

"In  San  Marcos  County,  in  the  southern  part  of 
the  state.  After  two  years  of  Siberia  and  four  days 
of  this  San  Francisco  fog,  I'm  fed  up  on  low  tempera 
tures,  and,  by  the  holy  poker,  I  want  to  go  home.  It 
isn't  much  of  a  home — just  a  quaint,  old,  crumbling 
adobe  ruin,  but  it's  home,  and  it's  mine.  Yes,  sir; 
I'm  going  home  and  sleep  in  the  bed  my  great-great 
grandfather  was  born  in." 

"If  I  had  a  bed  that  old,  I'd  fumigate  it,"  the  cap 
tain  declared.  Like  all  regular  army  officers,  he  was 
a  very  devil  of  a  fellow  for  sanitation.  "Do  you  wor 
ship  your  ancestors,  Farrel?" 


12  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Well,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  have  rather  a  rever 
ence  for  Hhe  ashes  of  my  fathers  and  the  temples  of 
my  gods.'  ' 

"So  have  the  Chinese.  Among  Americans,  however, 
I  thought  all  that  sort  of  thing  was  confined  to  the 
descendants  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers." 

"If  I  had  an  ancestor  who  had  been  a  Pilgrim 
Father,"  Farrel  declared,  "I'd  locate  his  grave  and 
build  a  garbage-incinerator  on  it." 

"What's  your  grouch  against  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  ?" 

"They  let  their  religion  get  on  top  of  them,  and 
they  took  all  the  joy  out  of  life.  My  Catalonian  an 
cestors,  on  the  other  hand,  while  taking  their  religion 
seriously,  never  permitted  it  to  interfere  with  a  fiesta. 
They  were  what  might  be  called  'regular  fellows.' ' 

"Your  Catalonian  ancestors?  Why,  I  thought  you 
were  black  Irish,  Farrel?" 

"The  first  of  my  line  that  I  know  anything  about 
was  a  lieutenant  in  the  force  that  marched  overland 
from  Mexico  to  California  under  command  of  Don 
Gaspar  de  Portola.  Don  Gaspar  was  accompanied  by 
Fray  Junipero  Serra.  They  carried  a  sword  and  a 
cross  respectively,  and  arrived  in  San  Diego  on  July 
first,  1769.  So,  you  see,  I'm  a  real  Californian." 

"You  mean  Spanish-Californian." 

"Well,  hardly  in  the  sense  that  most  people  use  that 
term,  sir.  We  have  never  intermarried  with  Mexican 
or  Indian,  and  until  my  grandfather  Farrel  arrived  at 
the  ranch  and  refused  to  go  away  until  my  grand 
mother  Noriaga  went  with  him,  we  were  pure-bred 
Spanish  blonds.  My  grandmother  had  red  hair,  brown 
eyes,  and  a  skin  as  white  as  an  old  bleached-linen 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  13 

napkin.  Grandfather  Farrel  is  the  fellow  to  whom  I 
am  indebted  for  my  saddle-colored  complexion." 

"Siberia  has  bleached  you  considerably.  I  should 
say  you're  an  ordinary  brunet  now." 

Farrel  removed  his  overseas  cap  and  ran  long  fingers 
through  his  hair. 

"If  I  had  a  strain  of  Indian  in  me,  sir,"  he  explained, 
"my  hair  would  be  straight,  thick,  coarse,  and  blue- 
black.  You  will  observe  that  it  is  wavy,  a  medium 
crop,  of  average  fineness,  and  jet  black." 

The  captain  laughed  at  his  frankness. 

"Very  well,  Farrel;  I'll  admit  you're  clean-strain 
white.  But  tell  me:  How  much  of  you  is  Latin  and 
how  much  Farrel?" 

It  was  Farrel's  turn  to  chuckle  now. 

"Seriously,  I  cannot  answer  that  question.  My 
grandmother,  as  I  have  stated,  was  pure-bred  Castilian 
or  Catalonian,  for  I  suppose  they  mixed.  The  original 
Michael  Joseph  Farrel  (I  am  the  third  of  the  name) 
was  Tipperary  Irish,  and  could  trace  his  ancestry  back 
to  the  fairies — to  hear  him  tell  it.  But  one  can  never 
be  quite  certain  how  much  Spanish  there  is  in  an  Irish 
man  from  the  west,  so  I  have  always  started  with  the 
premise  that  the  result  of  that  marriage — my  father — 
was  three-fifths  Latin.  Father  married  a  Galvez,  who 
was  half  Scotch ;  so  I  suppose  I'm  an  American." 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  on  your  native  heath,  Far 
rel.  Does  your  dad  still  wear  a  conical-crowned  som 
brero,  bell-shaped  trousers,  bolero  jacket,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing?" 

"No,  sir.  The  original  Mike  insisted  upon  wearing 
regular  trousers  and  hats.  He  had  all  of  the  preju- 


14  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

dices  of  his  race,  and  regarded  folks  who  did  things  dif 
ferently  from  him  as  inferior  people.  He  was  a  lieuten 
ant  on  a  British  sloop-of-war  that  was  wrecked  on  the 
coast  of  San  Marcos  County  in  the  early  'Forties.  All 
hands  were  drowned,  with  the  exception  of  my  grand 
father,  who  was  a  very  contrary  man.  He  swam  ashore 
and  strolled  up  to  the  hacienda  of  the  Rancho  Palomar, 
arriving  just  before  luncheon.  What  with  a  twenty- 
mile  hike  in  the  sun,  he  was  dry  by  the  time  he  arrived, 
and  in  his  uniform,  although  somewhat  bedraggled,  he 
looked  gay  enough  to  make  a  hit  with  my  great-grand 
father  Noriaga,  who  invited  him  to  luncheon  and 
begged  him  to  stay  a  while.  Michael  Joseph  liked  the 
place;  so  he  stayed.  You  see,  there  were  thousands  of 
horses  on  the  ranch  and,  like  all  sailors,  he  had 
equestrian  ambitions." 

"Great  snakes !     It  must  have  been  a  sizable  place.'* 
"It  was.     The  original  Mexican  grant  was  twenty 
leagues   square." 

"I  take  it,  then,  that  the  estate  has  dwindled  in  size." 
"Oh,  yes,  certainly.  My  great-grandfather  Nori 
aga,  Michael  Joseph  I,  and  Michael  Joseph  II  shot 
craps  with  it,  and  bet  it  on  horse-races,  and  gave  it 
away  for  wedding-doweries,  and,  in  general,  did  their 
little  best  to  put  the  Farrel  posterity  out  in  the  mes- 
quite  with  the  last  of  the  Mission  Indians." 

"How  much  of  this  principality  have  you  left?" 
"I  do  not  know.  When  I  enlisted,  we  had  a  hundred 
thousand  acres  of  the  finest  valley  and  rolling  grazing- 
land  in  California  and  the  hacienda  that  was  built  in 
1782.  But  I've  been  gone  two  years,  and  haven't  heard 
from  home  for  five  months." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  15 

"Mortgaged?" 

"Of  course.  The  Farrels  never  worked  while  money 
could  be  raised  at  ten  per  cent.  Neither  did  the  Nori- 
agas.  You  might  as  well  attempt  to  yoke  an  elk  and 
teach  him  how  to  haul  a  cart." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Farrel!  You're  the  hardest-working 
man  I  have  ever  known." 

Farrel  smiled  boyishly. 

"That  was  in  Siberia,  and  I  had  to  hustle  to  keep 
warm.  But  I  know  I'll  not  be  home  six  months  before 
that  delicious  maftana  spirit  will  settle  over  me  again, 
like  mildew  on  old  boots." 

The  captain  shook  his  head. 

"Any  man  who  can  see  so  clearly  the  economic  faults 
of  his  race  and  nevertheless  sympathize  with  them 
is  not  one  to  be  lulled  to  the  ruin  that  has  overtaken 
practically  all  of  the  old  native  California  families. 
That  strain  of  Celt  and  Gael  in  you  will  triumph  over 
the  easy-going  Latin." 

"Well,  perhaps.  And  two  years  in  the  army  has 
helped  tremendously  to  eradicate  an  inherited  tendency 
toward  procrastination." 

"I  shall  like  to  think  that  I  had  something  to  do 
with  that,"  the  officer  answered.  "What  are  your 
plans?" 

"Well,  sir,  this  hungry  world  must  be  fed  by  the 
United  States  for  the  next  ten  years,  and  I  have  an 
idea  that  the  Rancho  Palomar  can  pull  itself  out  of 
the  hole  with  beef  cattle.  My  father  has  always  raised 
short-legged,  long-horned  scrubs,  descendants  of  the 
old  Mexican  breeds,  and  there  is  no  money  in  that  sort 
of  stock.  If  I  can  induce  him  to  turn  the  ranch  over 


16  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

to  me,  I'll  try  to  raise  sufficient  money  to  buy  a  couple 
of  car-loads  of  pure-bred  Hereford  bulls  and  grade  up 
that  scrub  stock;  in  four  or  five  years  I'll  have  steers 
that  will  weigh  eighteen  hundred  to  two  thousand 
pounds  on  the  hoof,  instead  of  the  little  eight-hundred- 
pounders  that  have  swindled  us  for  a  hundred  years." 

"How  many  head  of  cattle  can  you  run  on  your 
ranch?" 

"About  ten  thousand — one  to  every  ten  acres.  If  I 
could  develop  water  for  irrigation  in  the  San  Gregorio 
valley,  I  could  raise  alfalfa  and  lot-feed  a  couple  of 
thousand  more." 

"What  is  the  ranch  worth?" 

"About  eight  per  acre  is  the  average  price  of  good 
cattle-range  nowadays.  With  plenty  of  water  for  irri 
gation,  the  valley-land  would  be  worth  five  hundred 
dollars  an  acre.  It's  as  rich  as  cream,  and  will  grow 
anything — with  water." 

"Well,  I  hope  your  dad  takes  a  back  seat  and  gives 
you  a  free  hand,  Farrel.  I  think  you'll  make  good, 
with  half  a  chance." 

"I  feel  that  way  also,"  Farrel  replied  seriously. 

"Are  you  going  south  to-night?" 

"Oh,  no.  Indeed  not !  I  don't  want  to  go  home  in 
the  dark,  sir."  The  captain  was  puzzled.  "Because 
I  love  my  California,  and  I  haven't  seen  her  for  two 
years,"  Farrel  replied,  to  the  other's  unspoken  query. 
"It's  been  so  foggy  since  we  landed  in  San  Francisco 
I've  had  a  hard  job  making  my  way  round  the 
Presidio.  But  if  I  take  the  eight-o'clock  train  to 
morrow  morning,  I'll  run  out  of  the  fog-belt  in  forty- 
five  minutes  and  be  in  the  sunshine  for  the  remainder  of 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  IT 

the  journey.  Yes,  by  Jupiter — and  for  the  remainder 
of  my  life !" 

"You  want  to  feast  your  eyes  on  the  countryside, 
eh?" 

"I  do.  It's  April,  and  I  want  to  see  the  Salinas  val 
ley  with  its  oaks;  I  want  to  see  the  bench-lands  with 
the  grape-vines  just  budding;  I  want  to  see  some  bald- 
faced  cows  clinging  to  the  Santa  Barbara  hillsides,  and 
I  want  to  meet  some  fellow  on  the  train  who  speaks  the 
language  of  my  tribe." 

"Farrel,  you're  all  Irish.  You're  romantic  and  po 
etical,  and  you  feel  the  call  of  kind  to  kind.  That's 
distinctly  a  Celtic  trait." 

"Quien  sabe?  But  I  have  a  great  yearning  to  speak 
Spanish  with  somebofly.  It's  my  mother  tongue." 

"There  must  be  another  reason,"  the  captain  ban 
tered  him.  "Sure  there  isn't  a  girl  somewhere  along 
the  right  of  way  and  you  are  fearful,  if  you  take  the 
night-train,  that  the  porter  may  fail  to  waken  you  in 
time  to  wave  to  her  as  you  go  by  her  station?" 

Farrel  shook  his  head. 

"There's  another  reason,  but  that  isn't  it.  Cap 
tain,  haven't  you  been  visualizing  every  little  detail  of 
your  home-coming?" 

"You  forget,  Farrel,  that  I'm  a  regular-army  man, 
and  we  poor  devils  get  accustomed  to  being  uprooted. 
I've  learned  not  to  build  castles  in  Spain,  and  I  never 
believe  I'm  going  to  get  a  leave  until  the  old  man  hands 
me  the  order.  Even  then,  I'm  always  fearful  of  an 
order  recalling  it." 

"You're  missing  a  lot  of  happiness,  sir.  Why,  I 
really  believe  I've  had  more  fun  out  of  the  anticipation 


18  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

of  my  home-coming  than  I  may  get  out  of  the  realiza 
tion.  I've  planned  every  detail  for  months,  and,  if 
anything  slips,  I'm  liable  to  sit  right  down  and  bawl 
like  a  kid." 

"Let's  listen  to  your  plan  of  operations,  Farrel,"  the 
captain  suggested.  "I'll  never  have  one  myself,  in  all 
probability,  but  I'm  child  enough  to  want  to  listen  to 
yours." 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  haven't  communicated 
with  my  father  since  landing  here.  He  doesn't  know 
I'm  back  in  California,  and  I  do  not  want  him  to 
know  until  I  drop  in  on  him." 

"And   your  mother,   Farrel?" 

"Died  when  I  was  a  little  chap.  No  brothers  or 
sisters.  Well,  if  I  had  written  him  or  wired  him 
when  I  first  arrived,  he  would  have  had  a  week  of  the 
most  damnable  suspense,  because,  owing  to  the  un 
certainty  of  the  exact  date  of  our  demobilization,  I 
could  not  have  informed  him  of  the  exact  time  of  my 
arrival  home.  Consequently,  he'd  have  had  old  Caro 
lina,  our  cook,  dishing  up  nightly  fearful  quantities 
of  the  sort  of  grub  I  was  raised  on.  And  that  would 
be  wasteful.  Also,  he'd  sit  under  the  catalpa  tree  out 
side  the  western  wall  of  the  hacienda  and  never  take 
his  eyes  off  the  highway  from  El  Toro  or  the  trail  from 
Sespe.  And  every  night  after  the  sun  had  set  and 
I'd  failed  to  show  up,  he'd  go  to  bed  heavy-hearted. 
Suspense  is  hard  on  an  old  man,  sir." 

"On  young  men,  too.     Go  on." 

"Well,  I'll  drop  off  the  train  to-morrow  afternoon 
about  four  o'clock  at  a  lonely  little  flag-station  called 
Sespe.  After  the  train  leaves  Sespe,  it  runs  south- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  19 

west  for  almost  twenty  miles  to  the  coast,  and  turns 
south  to  El  Toro.  Nearly  everybody  enters  the  San 
Gregorio  from  El  Toro,  but,  via  the  short-cut  trail 
from  Sespe,  I  can  hike  it  home  in  three  hours  and 
arrive  absolutely  unannounced  and  unheralded. 

"Now,  as  I  pop  up  over  the  mile-high  ridge  back  of 
Sespe,  I'll  be  looking  down  on  the  San  Gregorio  while 
the  last  of  the  sunlight  still  lingers  there.  You  see, 
sir,  I'm  only  looking  at  an  old  picture  I've  always 
loved.  Tucked  away  down  in  the  heart  of  the  val 
ley,  there  is  an  old  ruin  of  a  mission — the  Mission  de 
la  Madre  Dolorosa — the  Mother  of  Sorrows.  The 
light  will  be  shining  on  its  dirty  white  walls  and  red- 
tiled  roof,  and  I'll  sit  me  down  in  the  shade  of  a  man- 
zanita  bush  and  wait,  because  that's  my  valley  and  I 
know  what's  coming. 

"Exactly  at  six  o'clock,  I  shall  see  a  figure  come  out 
on  the  roof  of  the  mission  and  stand  in  front  of  the  old 
gallows-frame  on  which  hang  eight  chimes  that  were 
carried  in  on  mules  from  the  City  of  Mexico  when 
Junipero  Serra  planted  the  cross  of  Catholicism  at 
San  Diego,  in  1769.  That  distant  figure  will  be 
Brother  Flavio,  of  the  Franciscan  Order,  and  the  old 
boy  is  going  to  ramp  up  and  down  in  front  of  those 
chimes  with  a  hammer  and  give  me  a  concert.  He'll 
bang  out  'Adeste  Fideles'  and  'Gloria  in  Excelsis.' 
That's  a  cinch,  because  he's  a  creature  of  habit.  Oc 
casionally  he  plays  'Lead,  Kindly  Light'  and  'Ave 
Maria' !" 

Farrel  paused,  a  faint  smile  of  amusement  fringing 
his  handsome  mouth.  He  rolled  and  lighted  a  cigar 
ette  and  continued: 


20  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"My  father  wrote  me  that  old  Brother  Flavio,  after 
a  terrible  battle  with  his  own  conscience  and  at  the 
risk  of  being  hove  out  of  the  valley  by  his  indig 
nant  superior,  Father  Dominic,  was  practising  'Hail, 
The  Conquering  Hero  Comes !'  against  the  day  of  my 
home-coming.  I  wrote  father  to  tell  Brother  Flavio  to 
cut  that  out  and  substitute  'In  the  Good  Old  Summer 
time'  if  he  wanted  to  make  a  hit  with  me.  Awfully 
good  old  hunks,  Brother  Flavio  !  He  knows  I  like  those 
old  chimes,  and,  when  I'm  home,  he  most  certainly 
bangs  them  so  the  melody  will  carry  clear  up  to  the 
Palomar." 

The  captain  was  gazing  with  increasing  amaze 
ment  upon  his  former  first  sergeant.  After  eighteen 
months,  he  had  discovered  a  man  he  had  not  known 
heretofore." 

"And  after  the  'Angelus' — what?"  he  demanded. 

Farrel's  smug  little  smile  of  complacency  had 
broadened. 

"Well,  sir,  when  Brother  Flavio  pegs  out,  I'll  get 
up  and  run  down  to  the  Mission,  where  Father  Dom 
inic,  Father  Andreas,  Brother  Flavio,  Brother  An 
thony,  and  Brother  Benedict  will  all  extend  a  wel 
come  and  muss  me  up,  and  we'll  all  talk  at  once  and 
get  nowhere  with  the  conversation  for  the  first  five 
minutes.  Brother  Anthony  is  just  a  little  bit — ah — 
nutty,  but  harmless.  He'll  want  to  know  how  many 
men  I've  killed,  and  I'll  tell  him  two  hundred  and  nine 
teen.  He  has  a  leaning  toward  odd  numbers,  as 
tending  more  toward  exactitude.  Right  away,  he'll 
go  into  the  chapel  and  pray  for  their  souls,  and 
while  he's  at  this  pious  exercise,  Father  Dominic  will 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  21 

dig  up  a  bottle  of  old  wine  that's  too  good  for  a 
nut  like  Brother  Anthony,  and  we'll  sit  on  a  bench 
in  the  mission  garden  in  the  shade  of  the  largest 
bougainvillea  in  the  world  and  tuck  away  the  wine. 
Between  tucks,  Father  Dominic  will  inquire  casually 
into  the  state  of  my  soul,  and  the  information  thus 
elicited  will  scandalize  the  old  saint.  The  only  way 
I  can  square  myself  is  to  go  into  the  chapel  with  them 
and  give  thanks  for  my  escape  from  the  Bolsheviki. 

"By  that  time,  it  will  be  a  quarter  of  seven  and 
dark,  so  Father  Dominic  will  crank  up  a  prehistoric 
little  automobile  my  father  gave  him  in  order  that 
he  might  spread  himself  over  San  Marcos  County  on 
Sundays  and  say  two  masses.  I  have  a  notion  that 
the  task  of  keeping  that  old  car  in  running  order  has 
upset  Brother  Anthony's  mental  balance.  He  used 
to  be  a  blacksmith's  helper  in  El  Toro  in  his  youth, 
and  therefore  is  supposed  to  be  a  mechanic  in  his  old 
age." 

"Then  the  old  padre  drives  you  home,  eh?"  the 
captain  suggested. 

"He  does.  Providentially,  it  is  now  the  cool  of  the 
evening.  The  San  Gregorio  is  warm  enough,  for  all 
practical  purposes,  even  on  a  day  in  April,  and,  know 
ing  this,  I  am  grateful  to  myself  for  timing  my  ar 
rival  after  the  heat  of  the  day.  Father  Dominic  is 
grateful  also.  The  old  man  wears  thin  sandals, 
and  on  hot  days  he  suffers  continuous  martyrdom 
from  the  heat  of  that  little  motor.  He  is  always  beg 
ging  Satan  to  fly  away  with  that  hot-foot  accelerator. 

"Well,  arrived  home,  I  greet  my  father  alone  in 
the  patio.  Father  Dominic,  meanwhile,  sits  outside 


22  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

in  his  flivver  and  permits  the  motor  to  roar,  just  to 
let  my  father  know  he's  there,  although  not  for  money 
enough  to  restore  his  mission  would  he  butt  in  on  us 
at  that  moment. 

"Well,  my  father  will  not  be  able  to  hear  a  word  I 
say  until  Padre  Dominic  shuts  off  his  motor;  so  my 
father  will  yell  at  him  and  ask  him  what  the  devil 
he's  doing  out  there  and  to  come  in,  and  be  quick  about 
it,  or  he'll  throw  his  share  of  the  dinner  to  the  hogs. 
We  always  dine  at  seven;  so  we'll  be  in  time  for  din 
ner.  But  before  we  go  in  to  dinner,  my  dad  will  ring 
the  bell  in  the  compound,  and  the  help  will  report. 
Amid  loud  cries  of  wonder  and  delight,  I  shall  be  wel 
comed  by  a  mess  of  mixed  breeds  of  assorted  sexes, 
and  old  Pablo,  the  majordomo,  will  be  ordered  to 
pass  out  some  wine  to  celebrate  my  arrival.  It's 
against  the  law  to  give  wine  to  an  Indian,  but  then, 
as  my  father  always  remarks  on  such  occasions:  'To 
hell  with  the  law!  They're  my  Indians,  and  there  are 
damned  few  of  them  left.* 

"Padre  Dominic,  my  father,  and  I  will,  in  all  prob 
ability,  get  just  a  little  bit  jingled  at  dinner.  After 
dinner,  we'll  sit  on  the  porch  flanking  the  patio  and 
smoke  cigars,  and  I'll  smell  the  lemon  verbena  and 
heliotrope  and  other  old-fashioned  flowers  modern 
gardeners  have  forgotten  how  to  grow.  About  mid 
night,  Father  Dominic's  brain  will  have  cleared,  and 
he  will  be  fit  to  be  trusted  with  his  accursed  automo 
bile;  so  he  will  snort  home  in  the  moonlight,  and  my 
father  will  then  carefully  lock  the  patio  gate  with  a 
nine-inch  key.  Not  that  anybody  ever  steals  any 
thing  in  our  country,  except  a  cow  once  in  a  while — 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  23 

and  cows  never  range  in  our  patio — but  just  be 
cause  we're  hell-benders  for  conforming  to  custom. 
When  I  was  a  boy,  Pablo  Artelan,  our  majordomo, 
always  slept  athwart  that  gate,  like  an  old  watch 
dog.  I  give  you  my  word  I've  climbed  that  patio 
wall  a  hundred  times  and  dropped  down  on  Pablo's 
stomach  without  wakening  him.  And,  for  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  to  my  personal  knowledge,  that  patio 
gate  has  supported  itself  on  a  hinge  and  a  half.  Oh, 
we're  a  wonderful  institution,  we  Farrels!" 

"What  did  you  say  this  Pablo  was?" 

"He  used  to  be  a  majordomo.  That  is,  he  was  the 
foreman  of  the  ranch  when  we  needed  a  foreman. 
We  haven't  needed  Pablo  for  a  long  time,  but  it  doesn't 
cost  much  to  keep  him  on  the  pay-roll,  except  when  his 
relatives  come  to  visit  him  and  stay  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"And  your  father  feeds  them?" 

"Certainly.  Also,  he  houses  them.  It  can't  be 
helped.  It's  an  old  custom." 

"How  long  has  Pablo  been  a  pensioner?" 

"From  birth.  He's  mostly  Indian,  and  all  the  work 
he  ever  did  never  hurt  him.  But,  then,  he  was  never 
paid  very  much.  He  was  born  on  the  ranch  and  has 
never  been  more  than  twenty  miles  from  it.  And  his 
wife  is  our  cook.  She  has  relatives,  too." 

The  captain  burst  out  laughing. 

"But  surely  this  Pablo  has  some  use,"  he  suggested. 

"Well  he  feeds  the  dogs,  and  in  order  to  season  his 
•frijoles  with  the  salt  of  honest  labor,  he  saddles  my 
father's  horse  and  leads  him  round  to  the  house  every 
morning.  Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  day,  he 
sits  outside  the  wall  and,  by  following  the  sun,  he 


24*  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

manages  to  remain  in  the  shade,  He  watches  the  road 
to  proclaim  the  arrival  of  visitors,  smokes  cigarettes, 
and  delivers  caustic  criticisms  on  the  younger  genera 
tion  when  he  can  get  anybody  to  listen  to  him." 

"How  old  is  your  father,  Farrel?" 

"Seventy-eight." 

"And  he  rides  a  horse!" 

"He  does  worse  than  that."  Farrel  laughed.  "He 
rides  a  horse  that  would  police  you,  sir.  On  his  sev 
entieth  birthday,  at  a  rodeo,  he  won  first  prize  for 
roping  and  hog-tying  a  steer." 

"I'd  like  to  meet  that  father  of  yours,  Farrel." 

"You'd  like  him.  Any  time  you  want  to  spend  a 
furlough  on  the  Palomar,  we'll  make  you  mighty  wel 
come.  Better  come  in  the  fall  for  the  quail-shooting." 
He  glanced  at  his  wrist-watch  and  sighed.  "Well,  I 
suppose  I'd  do  well  to  be  toddling  along.  Is  the  cap 
tain  going  to  remain  in  the  service?" 

The  captain  nodded. 

"My  people  are  hell-benders  on  conforming  to  cus 
tom,  also,'*  he  added.  "We've  all  been  field-artillery 
men." 

"I  believe  I  thanked  you  for  a  favor  you  did  me 
once,  but  to  prove  I  meant  what  I  said,  I'm  going  to 
send  you  a  horse,  sir.  He  is  a  chestnut  with  silver 
points,  five  years  old,  sixteen  hands  high,  sound  as  a 
Liberty  Bond,  and  bred  in  the  purple.  He  is  beauti 
fully  reined,  game,  full  of  ginger,  but  gentle  and  sen 
sible.  He'll  weigh  ten  hundred  in  condition,  and  he's 
as  active  as  a  cat.  You  can  win  with  him  at  any 
horse-show  and  at  the  head  of  a  battery,  Dios!  He 
is  every  inch  a  caballero!" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  25 

"Sergeant,  you're  much  too  kind.     Really " 

"The  things  we  have  been  through  together,  sir — 
all  that  we  have  been  to  each  other — never  can  happen 
again.  You  will  add  greatly  to  my  happiness  if  you 
will  accept  this  animal  as  a  souvenir  of  our  very 
pleasant  association." 

"Oh,  son,  this  is  too  much !  You're  giving  me  your 
own  private  mount.  You  love  him.  He  loves  you. 
Doubtless  he'll  know  you  the  minute  you  enter  the 
pasture." 

Farrel's  fine  white  teeth  flashed  in  a  brilliant  smile. 

"I  do  not  desire  to  have  the  captain  mounted  on  an 
inferior  horse.  We  have  many  other  good  horses  on  the 
Palomar.  This  one's  name  is  Panchito;  I  will  ex 
press  him  to  you  some  day  this  week." 

"Farrel,  you  quite  overwhelm  me.  A  thousand 
thanks!  I'll  treasure  Panchito  for  your  sake  as  well 
as  his  own." 

The  soldier  extended  his  hand,  and  the  captain 
grasped  it. 

"Good-by,  Sergeant.     Pleasant  green  fields !" 

"Good-by,  sir.     Dry  camps  and  quick  promotion." 

The  descendant  of  a  conquistador  picked  up  his 
straw  suitcase,  his  helmet,  and  gas-mask.  At  the  door, 
he  stood  to  attention  and  saluted.  The  captain  leaped 
to  his  feet  and  returned  this  salutation  of  warriors; 
the  door  opened  and  closed,  and  the  officer  stood  star 
ing  at  the  space  so  lately  occupied  by  the  man  who, 
for  eighteen  months,  had  been  his  right  hand. 

"Strange  man!"  he  muttered.  "I  didn't  know  they 
bred  his  kind  any  more.  Why,  he's  a  feudal  baron !" 


Ill 


HHHERE  were  three  people  in  the  observation-car 
•"•  when  Michael  Joseph  Farrel  boarded  it  a  few 
minutes  before  eight  o'clock  the  following  morning. 
Of  the  three,  one  was  a  girl,  and,  as  Farrel  entered, 
carrying  the  souvenirs  of  his  service — a  helmet  and 
gas-mask — she  glanced  at  him  with  the  interest  which 
the  average  civilian  manifests  in  any  soldier  obviously 
just  released  from  service  and  homeward  bound.  Far- 
rel's  glance  met  hers  for  an  instant  with  equal  interest ; 
then  he  turned  to  stow  his  impedimenta  in  the  brass 
rack  over  his  seat.  He  was  granted  an  equally  swift 
but  more  direct  appraisal  of  her  as  he  walked  down 
the  observation-car  to  the  rear  platform,  where  he 
selected  a  chair  in  a  corner  that  offered  him  sanctuary 
from  the  cold,  fog-laden  breeze,  lighted  a  cigar,  and 
surrendered  himself  to  contemplating,  in  his  mind's' 
eye,  the  joys  of  home-coming. 

He  had  the  platform  to  himself  until  after  the  train 
had  passed  Palo  Alto,  when  others  joined  him.  The 
first  to  emerge  on  the  platform  was  a  Japanese.  Far 
rel  favored  him  with  a  cool,  contemptuous  scrutiny, 
for  he  was  a  Californian  and  did  not  hold  the  mem 
bers  of  this  race  in  a  tithe  of  the  esteem  he  accorded 
other  Orientals.  This  Japanese  was  rather  shorter 
and  thinner  than  the  majority  of  his  race.  He  wore 

26 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  27 

large,  round  tortoise-shell  spectacles,  and  clothes  that 
proclaimed  the  attention  of  the  very  best  tailors;  a 
gold-band  ring,  set  with  one  blue-white  diamond  and 
two  exquisite  sapphires,  adorned  the  pudgy  finger  of 
his  right  hand.  Farrel  judged  that  his  gray  beaver 
hat  must  have  cost  at  least  fifty  dollars. 

"We  ought  to  have  Jim  Crow  cars  for  these  cock 
sure  sons  of  Nippon,"  the  ex-soldier  growled  to  him 
self.  "We'll  come  to  it  yet  if  something  isn't  done 
about  them.  They  breed  so  fast  they'll  have  us 
crowded  into  back  seats  in  another  decade." 

He  had  had  some  unpleasant  clashes  with  Jap 
anese  troops  in  Siberia,  and  the  memory  of  their 
studied  insolence  was  all  the  more  poignant  because  it 
had  gone  unchallenged.  He  observed,  now,  that  the 
Japanese  passenger  had  permitted  the  screen  door  to 
slam  in  the  face  of  the  man  following  him;  with  a 
very  definite  appreciation  of  the  good  things  of  life, 
he  had  instantly  selected  the  chair  in  the  corner  oppo 
site  Farrel,  where  he  could  smoke  his  cigar  free  from 
the  wind.  Following  the  Japanese  came  an  American, 
as  distinctive  of  his  class  as  the  Japanese  was  of  his. 
In  point  of  age,  this  man  was  about  fifty  years  old — 
a  large  man  strikingly  handsome  and  of  impressive 
personality.  He  courteously  held  the  door  open  to 
permit  the  passage  of  the  girl  whom  Farrel  had  no 
ticed  when  he  first  entered  the  car. 

To  Farrel,  at  least,  a  surprising  incident  now  oc 
curred.  There  were  eight  vacant  seats  on  the  plat 
form,  and  the  girl's  glance  swept  them  all;  he  fancied 
it  rested  longest  upon  the  chair  beside  him.  Then, 
with  the  faintest  possible  little  moue  of  disapproval, 


28  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

she  seated  herself  beside  the  Japanese.  The  other 
man  took  the  seat  in  front  of  the  girl,  half  turned, 
and  entered  into  conversation  with  the  Jap. 

Farrel  studied  the  trio  with  interest,  decided  that 
they  were  traveling  together,  and  that  the  man  in  the 
gray  tweeds  was  the  father  of  the  girl.  She  bore  a 
striking  resemblance  to  him  and  had  inherited  his 
handsome  features  a  thousandfold,  albeit  her  eyes  were 
different,  being  large,  brown,  and  wide  apart;  from 
them  beamed  a  sweetness,  a  benignancy,  and  tender 
ness  that,  to  the  impressionable  Farrel,  bespoke  men 
tal  as  well  as  physical  beauty.  She  was  gowned, 
gloved,  and  hatted  with  rich  simplicity. 

"I  think  that  white  man  is  from  the  East,"  Farrel 
concluded,  although  why  that  impression  came  to  him,, 
he  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  explain.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  he  appeared  to  associate  on  terms  of  social 
equality  with  a  Japanese  whose  boorishness,  coupled 
with  an  evident  desire  to  agree  with  everything  the 
white  man  said,  proclaimed  him  anything  but  a  con 
sular  representative  or  a  visiting  merchant. 

Presently  the  girl's  brown  eyes  were  turned  casually 
in  Farrel's  direction,  seemingly  without  interest.  In 
stantly  he  rose,  fixed  her  with  a  comprehending  look, 
nodded  almost  imperceptibly  toward  the  chair  he  was 
vacating,  and  returned  to  his  seat  inside  the  car.  Her 
fine  brows  lifted  a  trifle;  her  slight  inclination  of  the 
head  was  robbed  of  the  chill  of  brevity  by  a  fleeting 
smile  of  gratitude,  not  so  much  for  the  sacrifice  of  his 
seat  in  her  favor  as  for  the  fine  courtesy  which  had 
moved  him  to  proffer  it  without  making  of  his  action 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  29 

an  excuse  to  sit  beside  her  and  attempt  an  acquaint 
ance. 

From  his  exile,  Farrel  observed  with  satisfaction 
how  quickly  the  girl  excused  herself  to  her  compan 
ions  and  crossed  over  to  the  seat  vacated  in  her  favor. 

At  the  first  call  for  luncheon,  he  entered  the  diner 
and  was  given  a  seat  at  a  small  table.  The  seat  op 
posite  him  was  unoccupied,  and  when  the  girl  entered 
the  diner  alone  and  was  shown  to  this  vacant  seat, 
Farrel  thrilled  pleasurably. 

"Three  long,  loud  ones  for  you,  young  lady!"  he 
soliloquized.  "You  didn't  care  to  eat  at  the  same 
table  with  the  brown  beggar;  so  you  came  to  luncheon 
alone." 

As  their  glances  met,  fhere  was  in  Farrel's  black 
eyes  no  hint  of  recognition,  for  he  possessed  in  full 
measure  all  of  the  modesty  and  timidity  of  the  most 
modest  and  timid  race  on  earth  where  women  are  con 
cerned — the  Irish — 'tempered  with  the  exquisite  cour 
tesy  of  that  race  for  whom  courtesy  and  gallantry 
toward  woman  are  a  tradition — the  Spanish  of  that  all 
but  extinct  Californian  caste  known  as  the  gente. 

It  pleased  Farrel  to  pretend  careful  study  of  the 
menu.  Although  his  preferences  in  food  were  simple, 
he  was  extraordinarily  hungry  and  knew  exactly  what 
he  wanted.  For  long  months  he  had  dreamed  of  a 
porterhouse  steak  smothered  in  mushrooms,  and  now, 
finding  that  appetizing  viand  listed  on  the  menu,  he 
ordered  it  without  giving  mature  deliberation  to  the 
possible  consequences  of  his  act.  For  the  past  two 
months  he  had  been  forced  to  avoid,  when  dining  alone, 
meats  served  in  such  a  manner  as  to  necessitate  firm 


30  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

and  skilful  manipulation  of  a  knife — and  when  the 
waiter  served  his  steak,  he  discovered,  to  his  embar 
rassment,  that  it  was  not  particularly  tender  nor  was 
his  knife  even  reasonably  sharp.  Consequently,  fol 
lowing  an  unsatisfactory  assault,  he  laid  the  knife  aside 
and  cast  an  anxious  glance  toward  the  kitchen,  into 
which  his  waiter  had  disappeared;  while  awaiting  the 
aid  of  this  functionary,  he  hid  his  right  hand  under 
the  table  and  gently  massaged  the  back  of  it  at  a 
point  where  a  vivid  red  scar  showed. 

He  was  aware  that  the  girl  was  watching  him,  and, 
with  the  fascination  peculiar  to  such  a  situation,  he 
could  not  forbear  a  quick  glance  at  her.  Interest  and 
concern  showed  in  the  brown  eyes,  and  she  smiled 
frankly,  as  she  said: 

"I  very  much  fear,  Mr.  Ex-First  Sergeant,  that 
your  steak  constitutes  an  order  you  are  unable  to 
execute.  Perhaps  you  will  not  mind  if  I  carve  it  for 
you." 

"Please  do  not  bother  about  me!"  he  exclaimed. 
"The  waiter  will  be  here  presently.  You  are  very 
kind,  but " 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  an  expert  in  the  gentle  art  of  mother 
ing  military  men.  I  commanded  a  hot-cake-and- 
doughnut  brigade  in  France."  She  reached  across  the 
little  table  and  possessed  herself  of  his  plate. 

"I'll  bet  my  last  copeck  you  had  good  discipline, 
too,"  he  declared  admiringly.  He  could  imagine  the 
number  of  daring  devils  from  whose  amorous  advances 
even  a  hot-cake  queen  was  not  immune. 

"The  recipe  was  absurdly  simple:  No  discipline,  no 
hot-cakes.  And  there  were  always  a  sufficient  number 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  SI 

of  good  fellows  around  to  squelch  anybody  who  tried 
to  interfere  with  my  efficiency.  By  the  way,  I  ob 
served  how  hungrily  you  were  looking  out  the  window 
this  morning.  Quite  a  change  from  Siberia,  isn't  it?" 

"How  did  you  know  I'd  soldiered  in  Siberia?" 

"You  said  you'd  bet  your  last  copeck." 

"You  should  have  served  in  Intelligence." 

"You  are  blessed  with  a  fair  amount  of  intuition 
yourself." 

"Oh,  I  knew  you  didn't  want  to  sit  near  that  Jap. 
Can't  bear  the  race  myself." 

She  nodded  approvingly. 

"Waiter's  still  out  in  the  kitchen,"  she  reminded 
him.  "Now,  old  soldier,  aren't  you  glad  I  took  pity  on 
you?  Your  steak  would  have  been  cold  before  he  got 
round  to  you,  and  I  imagine  you've  had  sufficient  cold 
rations  to  do  you  quite  a  while." 

"It  was  sweet  of  you  to  come  to  my  rescue.  I'm 
not  exactly  crippled,  though  I  haven't  used  my  hand 
for  more  than  two  months,  and  the  muscles  are  slightly 
atrophied.  The  knife  slips  because  I  cannot  close  my 
hand  tightly.  But  I'll  be  all  right  in  another  month." 

"What  happened  to  it?" 

"Saber-thrust.  Wouldn't  have  amounted  to  much 
if  the  Bolshevik  who  did  the  thrusting  had  had  a  clean 
saber.  Blood-poisoning  set  in,  but  our  battalion  sur 
geon  got  to  work  on  it  in  time  to  save  me  from  being 
permanently  crippled." 

"'Saber-thrust?'     They  got  that  close  to  you?" 

He  nodded. 

"Troop  of  Semenoff's  bandits  in  a  little  two-by- 
four  fight  out  on  the  trans-Siberian  railroad.  Guess 


32  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

they  wanted  the  trainload  of  rations  we  were  guard 
ing.  My  captain  killed  the  fellow  who  stuck  me  and 
accounted  for  four  others  who  tried  to  finish  me." 

"Captains  think  a  great  deal  of  good  first  ser 
geants,"  she  suggested.  "And  you  got  a  wound-chev 
ron  out  of  it.  I  suppose,  like  every  soldier,  you  wanted 
one,  provided  it  didn't  cost  too  much." 

"Oh,  yes.  And  I  got  mine  rather  cheap.  The  bat 
talion  surgeon  fixed  it  so  I  didn't  have  to  go  to  the 
hospital.  Never  missed  a  day  of  duty." 

She  handed  him  his  plate  with  the  steak  cut  into 
bits. 

"It  was  nice  of  you  to  surrender  your  cozy  seat  to 
me  this  morning,  Sergeant."  She  buttered  a  piece  of 
bread  for  him  and  added,  "But  very  much  nicer  the 
way  3*ou  did  it." 

"  'Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,' "  he  quoted, 
and  grinned  brazenly.  "Nevertheless,  if  I  were  in 
civvies,  you'd  have  permitted  the  waiter  to  cut  my 
steak."  " 

"Oh,  of  course  we  veterans  must  stand  together, 
Sergeant." 

"I  find  it  pleasanter  sitting  together.  By  the  way, 
may  I  ask  the  identity  of  the  Nipponese  person  wit!* 
your  father?" 

"How  do  you  know  he  is  my  father?"  she  parried. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  merely  thought  he  looked  quite 
worthy  of  the  honor." 

"While  away  with  the  rough,  bad  soldiers,  you  did 
not  forget  how  to  make  graceful  speeches,"  she  com 
plimented  him.  "The  object  of  your  pardonable  curi 
osity  is  a  Mr.  Okada,  the  potato  baron  of  California. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  33 

He  was  formerly  prime  minister  to  the  potato  king 
of  the  San  Joaquin,  but  revolted  and  became  a  pre 
tender  to  the  throne.  While  the  king  lives,  however, 
Okada  is  merely  a  baron,  although  in  a  few  years  he 
will  probably  control  the  potato  market  absolutely." 

He  thumped  the  table  lightly  with  his  maimed  hand. 

"I  knew  he  was  just  a  coolie  dressed  up." 

She  reached  for  an  olive. 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,  native  son.  He's  no  friend 
of  mine." 

"Well,  in  that  case,  I'll  spare  his  life,"  he  countered 
boldly.  "And  I've  always  wanted  to  kill  a  Japanese 
potato  baron.  Do  you  not  think  It  would  be  patri 
otic  of  me  to  immolate  myself  and  reduce  the  cost  of 
spuds?" 

"I  never  eat  them.  They're  very  fattening.  Now, 
if  you  really  wish  to  be  a  humanitarian,  why  not 
search  out  the  Japanese  garlic  king?" 

"I  dare  not.  His  demise  would  place  me  in  bad 
odor." 

She  laughed  merrily.  Evidently  she  was  finding  him 
amusing  company.  She  looked  him  over  appraisingly 
and  queried  bluntly, 

"Were  you  educated  abroad?" 

"I  was  not.  I'm  a  product  of  a  one-room  school- 
house  perched  on  a  bare  hill  down  in  San  Marcos 
County." 

"But  you  speak  like  a  college  man." 

"I  am.  I'm  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Cali 
fornia  Agricultural  College,  at  Davis.  I'm  a  sharp  on 
pure-bred  beef  cattle,  pure-bred  swine,  and  irrigation. 
1  know  why  hens  decline  to  lay  when  eggs  are  worth 


34  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

eighty  cents  a  dozen,  and  why  young  turkeys  are  so 
blamed  hard  to  raise  in  the  fall.  My  grandfather 
and  my  father  were  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dub 
lin,  and  were  sharps  on  Latin  and  Greek,  but  I  never 
figured  the  dead  languages  as  much  of  an  aid  to  a 
man  doomed  from  birth  to  view  cows  from  the  hurri 
cane-deck  of  a  horse." 

"But  you  have  such  a  funny  little  clipped  accent." 

He  opened  his  great  black  eyes  in  feigned  astonish 
ment. 

"Oh,  didn't  you  know?"  he  whispered. 

"Know  what?" 

"Unfortunate  young  woman!"  he  murmured  to  his 
water-glass.  "No  wonder  she  sits  in  public  with  that 
pudgy  son  of  a  chrysanthemum,  when  she  isn't  even 
able  to  recognize  a  greaser  at  a  glance.  Oh,  Lord!" 

"You're  not  a  greaser,"  she  challenged. 

"No?"  he  bantered.  "You  ought  to  see  me  squat 
ting  under  an  avocado  tree,  singing  the  'Spanish  Cav 
alier'  to  a  guitar  accompaniment.  Listen:  I'll  prove 
it  without  the  accompaniment."  And  he  hummed 
softly : 

"The  Spanish  cavalier, 

Went  out  to  rope  a  steer, 

Along  with  his  paper  cigar-o, 
'Car-ramba!'  says  he. 
'Mariana  you  will  be 
Mucho  bueno  carne  por  mio!*" 

Her  brown  eyes  danced. 

"That  doesn't  prove  anything  except  that  you're 
an  incorrigible  Celt.  When  you  stooped  down  to  kiss 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  35 

the  stone  at  Blarney  Castle,  you  lost  your  balance  ancf 
fell  in  the  well.  And  you've  dripped  blarney  ever 
since." 

"Oh,  not  that  bad,  really!  I'm  a  very  serious  per 
son  ordinarily.  That  little  forget-me-not  of  language 
is  a  heritage  of  my  childhood.  Mother  taught  me  to 
pray  in  Spanish,  and  I  learned  that  language  first. 
Later,  my  grandfather  taught  me  to  swear  in  English 
with  an  Irish  accent,  and  I've  been  fearfully  balled  up 
ever  since.  It's  very  inconvenient." 

"Be  serious,  soldier,  or  I  shall  not  cut  your  meat 
for  you  at  dinner." 

"Excuse  me.  I  forgot  I  was  addressing  a  hot-cake 
queen.  But  please  do  not  threaten  me,  because  I'm 
out  of  the  army  just  twenty-four  hours,  and  I'm  in 
dependent  and  I  may  resent  it.  I  can  order  spoon - 
victuals,  you  know." 

"You   aren't   really   Spanish?" 

"Not  really.  Mostly.  I'd  fight  a  wild  bull  this 
minute  for  a  single  red-chilli  pepper.  I  eat  them  raw." 

"And  you're  going  home  to  your  ranch  now?" 

"Si.  And  I'll  not  take  advantage  of  any  stop-over 
privileges  on  the  way,  either.  Remember  the  fellow 
in  the  song  who  kept  on  proclaiming  that  he  had  to 
go  back — that  he  must  go  back — that  he  would  go 
back — to  that  dear  old  Chicago  town?  Well,  that 
poor  exile  had  only  just  commenced  to  think  that  he 
ought  to  begin  feeling  the  urge  to  go  home-  And 
when  you  consider  that  the  unfortunate  man  bailed 

from  Chicago,  while  I "  He  blew  a  kiss  out  the 

window  and  hummed: 


36  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I  love  you,  California. 
You're  the  greatest  state  of  all " 

"Oh  dear!  You  native  sons  are  all  alike.  Con 
genital  advertisers,  every  one." 

"Well,  isn't  it  beautiful?  Isn't  it  wonderful?"  He 
was  serious  now. 

"One-half  of  your  state  is  worthless  mountain  coun 
try " 

"He-country — and  beautiful !"  he  interrupted. 

"The  other  half  is  desert." 

"Ever  see  the  Mojave  in  the  late  afternoon  from 
the  top  of  the  Tejon  Pass?"  he  challenged.  "The 
wild,  barbaric  beauty  of  it?  And  with  water  it  would 
be  a  garden-spot." 

"Of  course  your  valleys  are  wonderful." 

"Gracias,  senorita." 

"But  the  bare  brown  hills  in  summer-time — and  the 
ghost-rivers  of  the  South!  I  do  not  think  they  are 
beautiful," 

"They  grow  on  one,"  he  assured  her  earnestly. 
"You  wait  and  see.  I  wish  you  could  ride  over  the 
hills  back  of  Sespe  with  me  this  afternoon,  and  see 
the  San  Gregorio  valley  in  her  new  spring  gown. 
Ah,  how  my  heart  yearns  for  the  San  Gregorio !" 

To  her  amazement,  she  detected  a  mistiness  in  his 
e37es,  and  her  generous  heart  warmed  to  him. 

"How  profoundly  happy  you  are!"  she  commented. 

"'Happy'?  I  should  tell  a  man!  I'm  as  happy 
as  a  cock  valley-quail  with  a  large  family  and  no 
coyotes  in  sight.  Wow!  This  steak  is  good." 

"Not  very,  I  think.     It's  tough." 

"I  have  good  teeth." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  37 

She  permitted  him  to  eat  in  silence  for  several  min 
utes,  and  when  he  had  disposed  of  the  steak,  she 
asked, 

"You  l?ve  in  the  San  Gregorio  valley?" 

He  nodded. 

"We  have  a  ranch  there  also,"  she  volunteered. 
"Father  acquired  it  recently. " 

"From  whom  did  he  acquire  it?" 

"I  do  not  know  the  man's  name,  but  the  ranch  is 
one  of  those  old  Mexican  grants.  It  has  a  Spanisli 
name.  I'll  try  to  remember  it."  She  knitted  her 
delicate  brows.  "It's  Pal-something  or  other." 

"Is  it  the  Palomares  grant?"  he  suggested. 

"I  think  it  is.  I  know  the  former  owner  is  dead, 
and  my  father  acquired  the  ranch  by  foreclosure  of 
mortgage  on  the  estate." 

"Then  it's  the  Palomares  grant.  My  father  wrote 
in  his  last  letter  that  old  man  Gonzales  had  died  and 
that  a  suit  to  foreclose  the  mortgage  had  been  en 
tered  against  the  estate.  The  eastern  edge  of  that 
grant  laps  over  the  lower  end  of  the  San  Gregorio.  Is 
your  father  a  banker?" 

"He  controls  the  First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro." 

"That  settles  the  identity  of  the  ranch.  Gonzales 
was  mortgaged  to  the  First  National."  He  smiled  a 
trifle  foolishly.  "You  gave  me  a  bad  ten  seconds," 
he  explained.  "I  thought  you  meant  my  father's  ranch 
at  first." 

"Horrible !"  She  favored  him  with  a  delightful  little 
grimace  of  sympathy.  "Just  think  of  coming  home 
and  finding  yourself  homeless !" 

"I  think  such  a  condition  would  make  me  wish  that 


38  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Russian  had  been  given  time  to  finish  what  he  started. 
By  the  way,  I  knew  all  of  the  stockholders  in  the 
First  National  Bank,  of  El  Toro.  Your  father  is  a 
newcomer.  He  must  have  bought  out  old  Dan  Hayes* 
interest."  She  nodded  affirmatively.  "Am  I  at  liberty 
to  be  inquisitive — just  a  little  bit?"  he  queried. 

"That  depends,  Sergeant.  Ask  your  question,  and 
if  I  feel  at  liberty  to  answer  it,  I  shall." 

"Is  that  Japanese,  Okada,  a  member  of  your  party?" 

"Yes ;  he  is  traveling  with  us.  He  has  a  land-deal 
on  with  my  father." 

"Ah!" 

She  glanced  across  at  him  with  new  interest. 

"There  was  resentment  in  that  last  observation  of 
yours,"  she  challenged. 

"In  common  with  all  other  Californians  with  man 
hood  enough  to  resent  imposition,  I  resent  all  Jap 
anese." 

"Is  it  true,  then,  that  there  is  a  real  Japanese 
problem  out  here?" 

"Why,  I  thought  everybody  knew  that,"  he  replied, 
a  trifle  reproachfully.  "As  the  outpost  of  Occidental 
civilization,  we've  been  battling  Oriental  aggression  for 
forty  years." 

"I  had  thought  this  agitation  largely  the  mouthings 
of  professional  agitators — a  part  of  the  labor-leaders' 
plan  to  pose  as  the  watch-dogs  of  the  rights  of  the 
California  laboring  man." 

"That  is  sheer  buncombe  carefully  fostered  by  a 
very  efficient,  corps  of  Japanese  propagandists.  The 
resentment  against  the  Japanese  invasion  of  Cali- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  39 

fornia  is  not  confined  to  any  class,  but  is  a  very  vital 
issue  with  every  white  citizen  of  the  state  who  has 
reached  the  age  of  reason  and  regardless  of  whether 
he  was  born  in  California  or  Timbuctoo.  Look !" 

He  pointed  to  a  huge  sign-board  fronting  a  bend  in 
the  highway  that  ran  close  to  the  railroad  track  and 
parallel  with  it: 

NO  MORE  JAPS  WANTED  HERE 

"This  is  entirely  an  agricultural  section,"  he  ex 
plained.  "There  are  no  labor-unions  here.  But,"  he 
added  bitterly,  "you  could  throw  a  stone  in  the  air 
and  be  moderately  safe  on  the  small  end  of  a  bet  that 
the  stone  would  land  on  a  Jap  farmer." 

"Do  the  white  fanners  think  that  sign  will  frighten 
them  away?" 

"No ;  of  course  not.  That  sign  is  merely  a  polite 
intimation  to  white  men  who  may  contemplate  selling 
or  leasing  their  lands  to  Japs  that  the  organized  sen 
timent  of  this  community  is  against  such  a  course. 
The  lower  standards  of  living  of  the  Oriental  enable 
him  to  pay  much  higher  prices  for  land  than  a  white 
man  can." 

"But,"  she  persisted,  "these  aliens  have  a  legal 
right  to  own  and  lease  land  in  this  state,  have  they 
not?" 

"Unfortunately,  through  the  treachery  of  white  law 
yers,  they  have  devised  means  to  comply  with  the  let 
ter  of  a  law  denying  them  the  right  to  own  land, 
while  evading  the  spirit  of  that  law.  Corporations 
with  white  dummy  directors — purchases  by  alien  Japs 


40  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

in  the  names  of  their  infants  in  arms  who  happen  to 
have  been  born  in  this  country "  he  shrugged. 

"Then  you  should  amend  your  laws." 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  faintest  hint  of  cool 
Ifelligerence  in  his  fine  dark  eyes. 

"Every  time  we  Californians  try  to  enact  a  law 
calculated  to  keep  our  state  a  white  man's  country, 
you  Easterners,  who  know  nothing  of  our  problem,  and 
are  too  infernally  lazy  to  read  up  on  it,  permit  youiv 
selves  to  be  stampeded  by  that  hoary  shibboleth  of 
strained  diplomatic  relations  with  the  Mikado's  gov 
ernment.  Pressure  is  brought  to  bear  on  us  from 
the  seat  of  the  national  government;  the  Presi 
dent  sends  us  a  message  to  proceed  cautiously, 
and  our  loyalty  to  the  sisterhood  of  states  is 
used  as  a  club  to  beat  our  brains  out.  Once,  when 
we  were  all  primed  to  settle  this  issue  decisively, 
the  immortal  Theodore  Roosevelt — our  two-fisted,  non- 
bluffable  President  at  that  time — made  us  call  off  our 
dogs.  Later,  when  again  we  began  to  squirm  under 
our  burden,  the  Secretary  of  State,  pacific  William 
J.  Bryan,  hurried  out  to  our  state  capital,  held  up 
both  pious  hands,  and  cried:  'Oh,  no!  Really,  you 
mustn't!  We  insist  that  you  consider  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  family.  Withhold  this  radical  legislation 
until  we  can  settle  this  row  amicably.'  Well,  we  were 
dutiful  sons.  We  tried  out  the  gentleman's  agree 
ment  imposed  on  us  in  1907,  but  when,  in  1918,  we 
knew  it  for  a  failure,  we  passed  our  Alien  Land  Bill, 
which  hampered  but  did  not  prevent,  although  we 
knew  from  experience  that  the  class  of  Japs  who  have 
a  strangle-hold  on  California  are  not  gentlemen  but 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  41 

coolies,  and  never  respect  an  agreement  they  can  break 
if,  in  the  breaking,  they  are  financially  benefited." 

"Well,"  the  girl  queried,  a  little  subdued  by  his  ve 
hemence,  "how  has  that  law  worked  out?" 

"Fine — for  the  Japs.  The  Japanese  population  of 
California  has  doubled  in  five  years ;  the  area  of  fertile 
lands  under  their  domination  has  increased  a  thousand 
fold,  until  eighty-five  per  cent,  of  the  vegetables  raised 
in  this  state  are  controlled  by  Japs.  They  are  not  a 
dull  people,  and  they  know  how  to  make  that  control 
yield  rich  dividends — at  the  expense  of  the  white  race. 
That  man  Okada  is  called  the  'potato  baron'  because 
presently  he  will  actually  control  the  potato  crop  of 
central  California — and  that  is  where  most  of  the 
potatoes  of  this  state  are  raised.  Which  reminds  me 
that  I  started  to  ask  you  a  question  about  him.  Do 
you  happen  to  know  if  he  is  contemplating  expand 
ing  his  enterprise  to  include  a  section  of  southern  Cal 
ifornia  ?" 

"I  suppose  I  ought  not  discuss  my  father's  busi 
ness  affairs  with  a  stranger,"  she  replied,  "but  since 
he  is  making  no  secret  of  them,  I  dare  say  I  do  not 
violate  his  confidence  when  I  tell  you  that  he  has  a 
deal  on  with  Mr.  Okada  to  colonize  the  San  Gregorio 
valley  in  San  Marcos  County." 

The  look  of  a  thousand  devils  leaped  into  Farrel's 
eyes.  The  storm  of  passion  that  swept  him  was  truly 
Latin  in  its  terrible  intensity.  He  glared  at  the  girl 
with  a  malevolence  that  terrified  her, 

"My  valley!"  he  managed  to  murmur  presently. 
"My  beautiful  San  Gregorio !  Japs !  Japs  P> 

"I  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  that  information  would 


42  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 


upset  you  so,"  the  girl  protested.  "Please  for 
give  me." 

"I — I  come  from  the  San  Gregorio,"  he  cried 
passionately.  "I  love  every  rock  and  cactus  and  rat 
tlesnake  in  it.  VdLgame  Dios!"  And  the  maimed  right 
hand  twisted  and  clutched  as,  subconsciously,  he  strove 
to  clench  his  fist.  "Ah,  who  was  the  coward — who 
was  the  traitor  that  betrayed  us  for  a  handful  of 
silver?" 

"Yes;  I  believe  there  is  a  great  deal  of  the  Latin 
about  you,"  she  said  demurely.  "If  I  had  a  temper 
as  volcanic  as  yours,  I  would  never,  never  go  armed.'* 

"I  could  kill  with  my  naked  hands  the  white  man 
who  betrays  his  community  to  a  Jap.  Madre  de 
Dios,  how  I  hate  them!" 

"Well,  wait  until  your  trusty  right  hand  is  healed 
before  you  try  garroting  anybody,"  she  suggested 
dryly.  "Suppose  you  cool  off,  Mr.  Pepper-pot,  and 
tell  me  more  about  this  terrible  menace?" 

"You  are  interested — really?" 

"I  could  be  made  to  listen  without  interrupting 
you,  if  you  could  bring  yourself  to  cease  glaring  at 
me  with  those  terrible  chUe-c&n-carne  eyes.  I  can 
almost  see  myself  at  my  own  funeral.  Please  re 
member  that  I  have  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  my 
father's  business  affairs." 

"Your  father  looks  like  a  human  being,  and  if  he 
realized  the  economic  crime  he  is  fostering " 

"Easy,  soldier!  You're  discussing  my  father, 
whereas  I  desire  to  discuss  the  Yellow  Peril.  To  be 
gin,  are  you  prejudiced  against  a  citizen  of  Japan 
just  because  he's  a  Jap?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  43 

"I  will  be  frank.  I  do  not  like  the  race.  To  a 
white  man,  there  is  nothing  lovable  about  a  Jap.  noth 
ing  that  would  lead,  except  in  isolated  cases,  to  a 
warm  friendship  between  members  of  our  race  and 
theirs.  And  I  dare  say  the  individual  Jap  has  as  in 
stinctive  a  dislike  for  us  as  we  have  for  him.'* 

"Well  then,  how  about  John  Chinaman?" 

His  face  brightened. 

"Oh,  a  Chinaman  is  different.  He's  a  regular  fel 
low.  You  can  have  a  great  deal  of  respect  and  down 
right  admiration  for  a  Chinaman,  even  of  the  coolie 
class." 

'^Nevertheless,  the  Chinese  are  excluded  from  Cali 
fornia." 

He  nodded. 

"But  not  because  of  strong  racial  prejudice.  The 
Chinese,  like  any  other  Oriental,  are  not  assimilable; 
also,  like  the  Jap  and  the  Hindu,  they  are  smart 
enough  to  know  a  good  thing  when  they  see  it — and 
California  looks  good  to  everybody.  John  Chinaman 
would  overrun  us  if  we  permitted  it,  but  since  he  is  a 
mighty  decent  sort  and  realizes  the  sanity  of  our  con 
tention  that  he  is  not  assimilable  with  us,  or  we  with 
him,  he  admits  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  our  slogan: 
'California  for  white  men.'  There  was  no  protest 
from  Peking  when  we  passed  the  Exclusion  Act.  Now, 
however,  when  we  endeavor  to  exclude  Japanese,  Tokio 
throws  a  fit.  But  if  we  can  muster  enough  courage 
among  our  state  legislators  to  pass  a  law  that  will 
absolutely  divorce  the  Japanese  coolie  from  California 
land,  we  can  cope  with  him  in  other  lines  of  trade." 

She  had  listened  earnestly  to  his  argument,  deliv- 


44  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ered  with  all  the  earnestness  of  which  he  was  capable. 

"Why  is  he  not  assimilable?"  she  asked. 

"Would  you  marry  the  potato  baron  ?"  he  demanded 
bluntly. 

"Certainly  not !"  she  answered. 

"He  has  gobs  of  money.  Is  that  not  a  point  worthy 
of  consideration?'* 

"Not  with  me.     It  never  could  be." 

"Perhaps  you  have  gobs  of  money  also." 

"If  I  were  a  scrubwoman  and  starving,  I  wouldn't 
consider  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  that  Jap  suffi 
ciently  long  to  reject  it." 

"Then  you  have  answered  your  own  question,"  he 
reminded  her  triumphantly.  "The  purity  of  our 
race — aye,  the  purity  of  the  Japanese  race — forbids 
intermarriage;  hence  we  are  confronted  with  the  in 
tolerable  prospect  of  sharing  our  wonderful  state  with 
an  alien  race  that  must  forever  remain  alien — in 
thought,  language,  morals,  religion,  patriotism,  and 
standards  of  living.  They  will  dominate  us,  because 
they  are  a  dominant  people ;  they  will  shoulder  us  aside, 
control  us,  dictate  to  us,  and  we  shall  disappear  from 
this  beautiful  land  as  surely  and  as  swiftly  as  did 
the  Mission  Indian.  While  the  South  has  its  negro 
problem — and  a  sorry  problem  it  is — we  Californians 
have  had  an  infinitely  more  dangerous  problem  thrust 
upon  us.  We've  got  to  shake  them  off.  We've  got  to !" 

"I'll  speak  to  my  father.  I  do  not  think  he  un 
derstands — that  he  fully  realizes " 

"Ah!  Thank  you  so  much.  Your  father  is  rich, 
is  he  not?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  45 

"I  think  he  possesses  more  money  than  he  will  ever 
need,"  she  replied  soberly. 

"Please  try  to  make  him  see  that  the  big1  American 
thing  to  do  would  be  to  colonize  his  land  in  the  San 
Gregorio  for  white  men  and  take  a  lesser  profit. 
Really,  I  do  not  relish  the  idea  of  Japanese  neigh 
bors." 

"Y6u  live  there,  then?" 

He  nodded. 

"Hope  to  die  there,  too.  You  leave  the  train  at 
El  Toro,  I  suppose?" 

"My  father  has  telegraphed  mother  to  have  the  car 
meet  us  there.  We  shall  motor  out  to  the  ranch. 
And  are  you  alighting  at  El  Toro  also?" 

"No.  I  plan  to  pile  off  at  Sespe,  away  up  the  line, 
and  take  a  short  cut  via  a  cattle-trail  over  the  hills. 
I'll  hike  it." 

She  hesitated   slightly.      Then: 

"I'm  sure  father  would  be  very  happy  to  give  you 
a  lift  out  from  El  Toro,  Sergeant.  We  shall  have 
oodles  of  room." 

"Thank  you.  You  are  very  kind.  But  the  fact  is," 
he  went  on  to  explain,  "nobody  knows  I'm  coming 
home,  and  I  have  a  childish  desire  to  sneak  in  the  back 
way  and  surprise  them.  Were  I  to  appfir  in  El  Toro, 
I'd  have  to  shake  hands  with  everybody  in  town  and 
relate  a  history  of  my  exploits  and " 

"I  understand  perfectly.  You  just  want  to  get 
home,  don't  you?"  And  she  bent  upon  him  a  smile 
of  complete  understanding — a  smile  all- compelling,  ma 
ternal.  "But  did  you  say  you'd  hike  it  in  from  Sespe? 
Why  not  hire  a  horse?" 


46  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  horse,  and  if  I  cared  to  ask 
for  one,  I  could  borrow  one.  But  I'll  hike  it  instead. 
It  will  be  easy  in  light  marching-order." 

^'Speaking  of  horses,"  she  said  abruptly.  "Do  you 
know  a  horse  in  the  San  Gregorio  named  Panchito?" 

"A  very  dark  chestnut  with  silver  mane  and  tail, 
five-gaited,  and  as  stylish  as  a  lady?" 

"The  very  same." 

"I  should  say  I  do  know  that  horse!  What  about 
him?" 

"My  father  is  going  to  buy  him  for  me." 

This  was  news,  and  Farrel's  manner  indicated  as 
much. 

"Where  did  you  see  Panchito?"  he  demanded. 

"An  Indian  named  Pablo  rode  him  into  El  Toro 
to  be  shod  one  day  while  we  were  living  at  the  hotel 
there.  He's  perfectly  adorable." 

"Pablo?     Hardly.     I  know  the  old  rascal." 

"Be  serious.  Panchito — I  was  passing  the  black 
smith's  shop,  and  I  simply  had  to  step  in  and  admire 
him." 

"Tljat  tickled  old  Pablo  to  death — of  course." 

"It  did.  He  put  Panchito  through  all  of  his  tricks 
for  me,  and,  after  the  horse  was  shod,  he  permitted 
me  to  ride  the  dear  for  half  an  hour.  Pablo  was  so 
kind!  He  waited  until  I  could  run  back  to  the  hotel 
and  change  into  my  riding-habit." 

"Did  you  try  to  give  Pablo  some  money — say* 
about  five  dollars  ?"  he  demanded,  smilingly. 

"Yes."    Her  eyes  betrayed  wonder. 

"He  declined  it  with  profuse  thanks,  didn't  he?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  47 

"You're  the  queerest  man  I've  ever  met.  Pablo  did 
refuse  it.  How  did  you  know?" 

"I  know  Pablo.  He  wouldn't  take  money  from  a 
lady.  It's  against  the  code  of  the  Rancho  Palomar, 
and  if  his  boss  ever  heard  that  he  had  fractured  that 
code,  he'd  skin  him  alive." 

"Not  Pablo's  boss.  Pablo  told  me  his  Don  Mike, 
as  he  calls  him,  was  killed  by  the  bewhiskered  devils  in 
a  cold  country  the  name  of  which  he  had  heard  but 
could  not  remember.  He  meant  Siberia." 

Farrel  sat  up  suddenly. 

"What's  that?"  he  cried  sharply.  "He  told  you 
Don  Mike  had  been  killed?" 

"Yes — poor  fellow!  Pablo  said  Don  Mike's  father 
had  had  a  telegram  from  the  War  Department." 

Farrel's  first  impulse  was  to  curse  the  War  Depart 
ment — in  Spanish,  so  she  would  not  understand.  His 
second  was  to  laugh,  and  his  third  to  burst  into  tears. 
How  his  father  had  suffered!  Then  he  remembered 
that  to-night,  he,  the  said  Don  Mike,  was  to  have  the 
proud  privilege  of  returning  from  Valhalla,  of  bringing 
the  light  of  joy  back  to  the  faded  eyes  of  old  Don 
Miguel,  and  in  the  swift  contemplation  of  the  drama 
and  the  comedy  impending,  he  stood  staring  at  her 
rather  stupidly.  Pablo  would  doubtless  believe  he  was 
a  ghost  returned  to  haunt  old  scenes;  the  majordomo 
would  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  start  running, 
never  pausing  till  he  would  reach  the  Mission  of  the 
Mother  of  Sorrows,  there  to  pour  forth  his  unbeliev 
able  tale  to  Father  Dominic.  Whereupon  Father  Dom 
inic  would  spring  into  his  prehistoric  automobile  and 


48  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

come  up  to  investigate.  Great  jumped-up  Jehosha- 
phat!  What  a  climax  to  two  years  of  soldiering! 

"Wha — what — why — do  you  mean  to  tell  me  poor 
old  Mike  Farrel  has  lost  the  .number  of  his  mess?" 
he  blurted.  "Great  snakes  I  LThat  news  breaks  me 
all  up  in  business." 

"You  knew  him  well,  then?" 

"  'Knew  him?'  Why,  I  ate  with  him,  slept  with 
him,  rode  with  him,  went  to  school  with  him.  Know 
him?  I  should  tell  a  man!  We  «even  soldiered  to 
gether  in  Siberia;  but,  strange  to  say,  I  hadn't  heard 
of  his  death." 

"Judging  by  all  the  nice  things  I  heard  about  him 
in  El  Toro,  his  death  was  a  genuine  loss  to  his  section 
of  the  country.  Everybody  appears  to  have  known 
him  and  loved  him." 

"One  has  to  die  before  his  virtues  are  apparent  to 
some  people,"  Farrel  murmured  philosophically.  "And 
now  that  Don  Mike  Farrel  is  dead,  you  hope  to  ac 
quire  Panchito,  eh?" 

"I'll  be  broken-hearted  if  I  cannot." 

"He'll  cost  you  a  lot  of  money." 

"He's  worth  a  lot  of  money." 

He  gazed  at  her  very  solemnly. 

"I  am  aware  that  what  I  am  about  to  say  is  but 
poor  return  for  your  sweet  courtesy,  but  I  feel  that 
you  might  as  well  begin  now  to  abandon  all  hope  of 
ever  owning  Panchito." 

"Why?" 

"I— I  hate  to  tell  you  this,  but  the  fact  is— I'm 
going  to  acquire  him." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  49 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  at  him — the  supe 
rior  smile  of  one  quite  conscious  of  her  strength. 

"He  is  to  be  sold  at  public  auction,"  she  informed 
him.  "And  the  man  who  outbids  me  for  that  horse 
will  have  to  mortgage  his  ranch  and  borrow  money 
on  his  Liberty  Bonds." 

"We  shall  see  that  which  we  shall  see,"  he  returned, 
enigmatically.  "Waiter,  bring  me  my  check,  please." 

While  the  waiter  was  counting  out  the  change  from 
a  twenty-dollar  bill,  Farrel  resumed  his  conversation 
with  the  girl. 

"Do  you  plan  to  remain  in  the  San  Gregorio  very 
long?" 

"All  summer,  I  think." 

He  .rose  from  his  chair  and  bowed  to  her  with  an 
Old-World  courtliness. 

"Once  more  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  me, 
s^norita^"  he  said.  "It  is  a  debt  that  I  shall  always 
remember — and  rejoice  because  I  can  never  repay  it. 
I  dare  say  we  shall  meet  again  in  the  very  near  future, 
and  when  we  do,  I  am  going  to  arrange  matters  so 
that  I  may  have  the  honor  of  being  properly  intro 
duced."  He  pocketed  his  change.  "Until  some  day 
in  the  San  Gregorio,  then,"  he  finished,  "adiosf" 

Despite  his  smile,  her  woman's  intuition  told  her 
that  something  more  poignant  than  the  threatened 
Japanese  invasion  of  the  San  Gregorio  valley  had  cast 
a  shadow  over  his  sunny  soul.  She  concluded  it  must 
have  been  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  childhood  chum, 
the  beloved  Don  Mike. 

"What  a  wonderful  fellow  Don  Mike  must  have 
been!"  she  mused.  "White  men  sing  his  praises,  and 


50  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Indians  and  mixed  breeds  cry  them.  No  wonder  this 
ex-soldier  plans  to  outbid  me  for  Panchito.  He  at 
taches  a  sentimental  value  to  the  horse  because  of  his 
love  for  poor  Don  Mike.  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  bid 
against  him  under  the  circumstances.  Poor  dear!  He 
wants  his  buddy's  horse  so  badly.  He's  really  very 
nice — so  old-fashioned  and  sincere.  And  he's  dread 
fully  good-looking." 

"Nature  was  overgenerous  with  that  young  lady," 
Farrel  decided,  as  he  made  his  way  up  to  the  smoking- 
car.  "As  a  usual  thing,  she  seldom  dispenses  brains 
with  beauty — and  this  girl  has  both.  I  wonder  who 
she  can  be?  Well,  she's  too  late  for  Panchito.  She 
may  have  any  other  horse  on  the  ranch,  but " 

Pie  glanced  down  at  the  angry  red  scar  on  the 
back  of  his  right  hand  and  remembered.  What  a 
charger  was  Panchito  for  a  battery  commander ! 


IV 


ARREL  remained  in  the  smoking-car  throughout 
•»•  the  rest  of  his  journey,  for  he  feared  the  possi 
bility  of  a  renewal  of  acquaintance  with  his  quondam 
companion  of  the  dining-car  should  he  return  to  the 
observation-platform.  He  did  not  wish  to  meet  her 
as  a  discharged  soldier,  homeward  bound — the  sort  of 
stray  dog  every  man,  woman,  and  child  feels  free  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  and  question  regarding 
his  battles,  wounds,  and  post-office  address.  When  he 
met  that  girl  again,  he  wanted  to  meet  her  as  Don 
Miguel  Jose  Parrel,  of  Palomar.  He  was  not  so  un 
intelligent  as  to  fail  to  realize  that  in  his  own  country 
lie  was  a  personage,  and  he  had  sufficient  self-esteem 
to  desire  her  to  realize  it  also.  He  had  a  feeling  that, 
should  they  meet  frequently  in  the  future,  they  would 
become  very  good  friends.  Also,  he  looked  forward 
with  quiet  amusement  to  the  explanations  that  would 
ensue  when  the  supposedly  dead  should  return  to  life. 
During  their  brief  conversation,  she  had  given  him 
much  food  for  thought — so  much,  in  fact,  that  pres 
ently  he  forgot  about  her  entirely.  His  mind  was 
occupied  with  the  problem  that  confronts  practically 
all  discharged  soldiers — that  of  readjustment,  not 
to  the  life  of  pre-war  days,  but  to  one  newer,  better, 
more  ambitious,  and  efficient.  Farrel  realized  that  a 

51 


5£  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

continuation  of  his  dolce-far-niente  life  on  the  Rancho 
Palomar  under  the  careless,  generous,  and  rather 
shiftless  administration  of  his  father  was  not  for  him. 
Indeed,  the  threatened  invasion  of  the  San  Gregorio  by 
Japanese  rendered  imperative  an  immediate  decision 
to  that  effect.  He  was  the  first  of  an  ancient  lineage 
who  had  even  dreamed  of  progress ;  he  had  progressed, 
and  he  could  never,  by  any  possibility,  afford  to  ret 
rograde. 

The  Farrels  had  never  challenged  competition.  They 
had  been  content  to  make  their  broad  acres  pay  a  sum 
sufficient  to  meet  operating-expenses  and  the  interest- 
charges  on  the  ancient  mortgage,  meanwhile  support 
ing  themselves  in  all  the  ease  and  comfort  of  their 
class  by  nibbling  at  their  principal.  Just  how  far  his 
ancestors  had  nibbled,  the  last  of  the  Farrels  was  not 
fully  informed,  but  he  was  young  and  optimistic,  and 
believed  that,  with  proper  management  and  the  ap 
plication  of  modern  ranching  principles,  he  would  suc 
ceed,  by  the  time  he  was  fifty,  in  saving  this  princi 
pality  intact  for  those  who  might  come  after  him, 
for  it  was  not  a  part  of  his  life  plan  to  die  childless — 
now  that  the  war  was  over  and  he  out  of  it  practically 
with  a  whole  skin.  This  aspect  of  his  future  he  con 
sidered  as  the  train  rolled  into  the  Southland.  He 
was  twenty-eight  years  old,  and  he  had  never  been  in 
love,  although,  since  his  twenty-first  birthday,  his 
father  and  Don  Juan  Sepulvida,  of  the  Rancho  Car- 
pa  jo,  had  planned  a  merger  of  their  involved  estates 
through  the  simple  medium  of  a  merger  of  their  fam 
ilies.  Anita  Sepulvida  was  a  beauty  that  any  man 
might  be  proud  of;  her  blood  was  of  the  purest  and 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  53 

best,  but,  with  a  certain  curious  hard-headedness  (the 
faint  strain  of  Scotch  in  him,  in  all  likelihood),  Don 
Mike  had  declined  to  please  the  oldsters  by  paying 
court  to  her. 

''There's  sufficient  of  the  manana  spirit  in  our  tribe 
now.  even  with  the  Celtic  admixture,"  he  had  declared 
forcibly.  "I  believe  that  like  begets  like  in  the  human 
family  as  well  as  in  the  animal  kingdom,  and  we  know 
from  experience  that  it  never  fails  there.  An  infu 
sion  of  pep  is  what  our  family  needs,  and  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  relish  the  job  of  rehabilitating  two  de 
cayed  estates  for  a  posterity  that  I  know  could  no 
more  compete  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  than  did 
their  ancestors." 

Whereat,  old  Don  Miguel,  who  possessed  a  large 
measure  of  the  Celtic  instinct  for  domination,  had  in 
formed  Don  Mike  that  the  latter  was  too  infernally 
particular.  By  the  blood  of  the  devil,  his  son's  state 
ment  indicated  a  certain  priggishness,  which  he,  Don 
Miguel,  could  not  deplore  too  greatly. 

"You  taught  me  pride  of  race,"  his  son  reminded 
him.  "I  merely  desire  to  improve  our  race  by  judi 
cious  selection  when  I  mate.  And,  of  course,  I'll  have 
to  love  the  woman  I  marry.  And  I  do  not  love  Anita 
Sepulvida." 

"She  loves  you,"  the  old  don  had  declared  bluntly. 

"Then  she's  playing  in  hard  luck.  Believe  me, 
father,  I'm  no  prig,  but  I  do  realize  the  necessity  for 
grafting  a  little  gringo  hustle  to  our  family  tree. 
Consider  the  supergrandson  you  will  have  if  you  leave 
me  to  follow  my  own  desires  in  this  matter.  In  him 
will  be  blended  the  courtliness  and  chivalry  of  Spain, 


54  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  imagery  and  romance  and  belligerency  of  the 
Irish,  the  thrift  and  caution  of  the  Scotch,  and  the 
go-get-him-boy,  knock-down-and-drag-out  spirit  of  our 
own  Uncle  Sam.  Why,  that's  a  combination  you  can 
not  improve  upon!" 

"I  wish  I  could  fall  in  love  with  some  fine  girl,  marry 
her,  and  give  my  father  optical  assurance,  before  he 
passes  on,  that  the  Farrel  tribe  is  not,  like  the  mule, 
without  pride  of  ancestry  or  hope  of  posterity,"  he 
mused;  "but  I'll  be  shot  if  I'll  ever  permit  myself  to 
fall  in  love  with  the  sort  of  woman  I  want  until  I 
know  I  have  something  more  tangible  than  love  and 
kisses  to  offer  her.  About  all  I  own  in  this  world 
is  this  old  uniform  and  Panchito — and  I'm  getting 
home  just  in  time  to  prevent  my  father  from  selling 
him  at  auction  for  the  benefit  of  my  estate.  And 
since  I'm  going  to  chuck  this  uniform  to-morrow  and 
give  Panchito  away  the  day  after — by  the  gods  of 
War,  that  girl  gave  me  a  fright  when  she  was  trying 
to  remember  the  name  of  old  man  Gonzales's  ranch! 
If  it  had  been  the  Palomar  instead  of  the  Palomares ! 
I  might  be  able  to  stand  the  sight  of  Japs  on  the 
Palomares  end  of  the  San  Gregorio,  but  on  the  Pal 
omar " 

At  four  o'clock,  when  the  train  whistled  for  Sespe, 
he  hurried  back  to  the  observation-car  to  procure  his 
baggage  preparatory  to  alighting  from  the  train. 
The  girl  sat  in  the  seat  opposite  his,  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  now  with  friendly  eyes. 

"Would  you  care  to  leave  your  things  in  the  car 
and  entrust  them  to  father's  man?"  she  queried.  "We 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  55 

would  be  glad  to  take  them  in  the  motor  as  far  as 
the  mission.  My  father  suggested  it,"  she  added. 

"Your  father's  a  brick.  I  shall  be  happy  to  accept, 
thank  you.  Just  tell  the  chauffeur  to  leave  them  off 
in  front  of  the  mission  and  I'll  pick  them  up  when 
I  come  over  the  trail  from  Sespe.  I  can  make  far 
better  time  over  the  hills  without  this  suitcase,  light 
as  it  is." 

"You're  exceedingly  welcome,  Sergeant.  And,  by 
the  way,  I  have  decided  nob  to  contest  your  right  to 
Panchito.  It  wouldn't  be  sporty  of  me  to  outbid  you 
for  your  dead  buddy's  horse." 

His  heart  leaped. 

"I  think  you're  tremendously  sweet,"  he  declared, 
bluntly.  "As  matters  stand,  we  happen  to  have  a  half- 
brother  of  Panchito  up  on  the  ranch — or,  at  least, 
we  did  have  when  I  enlisted.  He's  coming  four,  and 
he  ought  to  be  a  beauty.  I'll  break  him  for  you 
myself.  However,"  he  added,  with  a  deprecatory  grin, 
""I — I  realize  you're  not  the  sort  of  girl  who  accepts 
gifts  from  strangers ;  so,  if  you  have  a  nickel  on  you, 
I'll  sell  you  this  horse,  sight  unseen.  If  he's  gone, 
I'll  give  the  nickel  back." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  she  replied,  with  an  arch 
smile.  "I  could  not  possibly  accept  a  gift  from  a 
stranger.  Neither  could  I  buy  a  horse  from  a 
stranger — no;  not  even  at  the  ridiculous  price  of  five 
cents." 

"Perhaps  if  I  introduced  myself — have  I  your  per 
mission  to  be  that  bold?" 

"Well,"  she  replied,  still  with  that  bright,  friendly, 
understanding  smile,  "that  might  make  a  difference." 


56  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I  do  not  deserve  such  consideration.  Consequently, 
for  your  gentle  forbearance,  you  shall  be  accorded 
a  unique  privilege — that  of  meeting  a  dead  soldier.  I 
am  Miguel  Jose  Farrel,  better  known  as  'Don  Mike,' 
of  the  Rancho  Palomar,  and  I  own  Panchito.  To 
quote  the  language  of  Mark  Twain,  'the  report  of  my 
death  has  been  grossly  exaggerated,'  as  is  the  case 
of  several  thousand  other  soldiers  in  this  man's  army." 
He  chuckled  as  he  saw  a  look  of  amazement  replace 
the  sweet  smile.  "And  you  are  Miss — "  he  queried. 

She  did  not  answer.  She  could  only  stare  at  him, 
and  in  that  look  he  thought  he  noted  signs  of  per 
turbation.  While  he  had  talked,  the  train  had  slid 
to  a  momentary  halt  for  the  flag-station,  and  while 
he  waited  now  for  her  name,  the  train  began  creeping 
out  of  Sespe. 

"All  right,"  he  laughed.  "You  can  tell  me  your 
name  when  we  meet  again.  I  must  run  for  it. 
Good-by."  He  hurried  through  the  screen  door  to 
the  platform,  stepped  over  the  brass  railing,  and 
clung  there  a  moment,  looking  back  into  the  car  at 
her  before  dropping  lightly  to  the  ground  between  the 
tracks. 

"Now  what  the  devil  is  the  meaning  of  that?"  he 
mused,  as  he  stood  there  watching  the  train.  "There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes." 

He  crossed  the  tracks,  climbed  a  fence,  and  after 
traversing  a  small  piece  of  bottom-land,  entered  a  trail 
through  the  chaparral,  and  started  his  upward  climb 
to  the  crest  of  the  range  that  hid  the  San  Gregorio, 
Suddenly  he  paused. 

Had  the  girl's  unfamiliarity  with   Spanish   names 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  57 

caused  her  to  confuse  Palomar  with  Palomares?  And 
why  was  Panchito  to  be  sold  at  auction?  Was  it  like 
his  father  to  sacrifice  his  son's  horse  to  any  fellow 
with  the  money  to  buy  him  ?  No  !  No !  Rather  would 
he  sell  his  own  mount  and  retain  Panchito  for  the 
sake  of  the  son  he  mourned  as  dead.  The  Palomares 
end  of  the  San  Gregorio  was  too  infertile  to  interest 
an  experienced  agriculturist  like  Okada;  there  wasn't 
sufficient  acreage  to  make  a  colonization-scheme  worth 
while.  On  the  contrary,  fifty  thousand  acres  of  the 
Rancho  Palomar  lay  in  the  heart  of  the  valley  and 
immediately  contiguous  to  the  flood-waters  at  the  head 
of  the  ghost-river  for  which  the  valley  was  named. 

Don  Mike,  of  Palomar,  leaned  against  the  bole  of 
a  scrub-oak  and  closed  his  eyes  in  sudden  pain.  Pres 
ently,  he  roused  himself  and  went  his  way  with  uncer 
tain  step,  for,  from  time  to  time,  tears  blinded  him. 
And  the  last  of  the  sunlight  had  faded  from  the  San 
Gregorio  before  he  topped  the  crest  of  its  western 
boundary;  the  melody  of  Brother  Flavio's  angelus  had 
ceased  an  hour  previous,  and  over  the  mountains  to 
the  east  a  full  moon  stood  in  a  cloudless  sky,  flooding 
the  silent  valley  with  its  silver  light,  and  pricking 
out  in  bold  relief  the  gray-white  walls  of  the  Mission 
de  la  Madre  Dolorosa,  crumbling  souvenir  of  a  day 
that  was  done. 

He  ran  down  the  long  hill,  and  came  presently  to 
the  mission.  In  the  grass  beside  the  white  road,  he 
searched  for  his  straw  suitcase,  his  gas-mask,  and  the 
helmet,  but  failing  to  find  them,  he  concluded  the  girl 
had  neglected  to  remind  her  father's  chauffeur  to  throw 
them  off  in  front  of  the  mission,  as  promised.  So  he 


58  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

passed  along  the  front  of  the  ancient  pile  and  let  him 
self  in  through  a  wooden  door  in  the  high  adobe  wall 
that  surrounded  the  churchyard  immediately  adjacent 
to  the  mission.  With  the  assurance  of  one  who  treads 
familiar  ground,  he  strode  rapidly  up  a  weed-grown 
path  to  a  spot  where  a  tall  black-granite  monument 
proclaimed  that  here  rested  the  clay  of  one  superior 
to  his  peon  and  Indian  neighbors.  And  this  was  so, 
for  the  shaft  marked  the  grave  of  the  original  Michael 
Joseph  Farrel,  the  adventurer  the  sea  had  cast  up  on 
the  shore  of  San  Marcos  County. 

Immediately  to  the  left  of  this  monument,  Don  Mike 
saw  a  grave  that  had  not  been  there  when  he  left  the 
Palomar.  At  the  head  of  it  stood  a  tile  taken  from 
the  ruin  of  the  mission  roof,  and  on  this  brown  tile 
some  one  had  printed  in  rude  lettering  with  white 
paint : 

Fallecio 
Don  Miguel  Jose  Noriaga  Farrel 

Nacio,  Junto  3,  1841 
Muerto,  Deciembre  29,   1919. 

The  last  scion  of  that  ancient  house  knelt  in  the 
mold  of  his  father's  grave  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross. 


THE  tears  which  Don  Mike  Parrel  had  descried  in 
the  eyes  of  his  acquaintance  on  the  train  were,  as 
he  came  to  realize  when  he  climbed  the  steep  cattle- 
trail  from  Sespe,  -the  tribute  of  a  gentle  heart  moved 
to  quick  and  uncontrollable  sympathy.  Following 
their  conversation  in  the  dining-car,  the  girl — her 
name  was  Kay  Parker — had  continued  her  luncheon^ 
her  mind  busy  with  thoughts  of  this  strange  home- 
bound  ex-soldier  who  had  so  signally  challenged  her 
attention.  "There's  breeding  back  of  that  man,"  the 
girl  mused.  "He's  only  a  rancher's  son  from  the  San 
Gregorio ;  where  did  he  acquire  his  drawing-room  man 
ners?" 

She  decided,  presently,  that  they  were  not  drawing- 
room  manners.  They  were  too  easy  and  graceful  and 
natural  to  have  been  acquired.  He  must  have  been 
born  with  them.  There  was  something  old-fashioned 
about  him — as  if  part  of  him  dwelt  in  the  past  cen 
tury.  He  appeared  to  be  quite  certain  of  himself, 
yet  there  was  not  even  a  hint  of  ego  in  his  cosmos. 
His  eyes  were  wonderful — and  passionless,  like  a  boy's. 
Yes;  there  was  a  great  deal  of  the  little  boy  about 
him,  for  all  his  years,  his  wounds,  and  his  adventures. 
Kay  thought  him  charming,  yet  he  did  not  appear  to 
be  aware  of  his  charm,  and  this  fact  increased  her  at- 

59 


60  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

traction  to  him.  It  pleased  her  that  he  had  pre 
ferred  to  discuss  the  Japanese  menace  rather  than  his 
own  exploits,  and  had  been  human  enough  to  fly  in  a 
rage  when  told  of  her  father's  plans  with  the  potato 
baron.  Nevertheless,  he  had  himself  under  control, 
for  he  had  smothered  his  rage  as  quickly  as  he  had 
permitted  it  to  flare  up. 

"Curious  man!"  the  girl  concluded.  "However — 
he's  a  man,  and  when  we  meet  again,  I'm  going  to  in 
vestigate  thoroughly  and  see  what  else  he  has  in  his 
head." 

Upon  further  reflection,  she  reminded  herself  that 
he  hadn't  disclosed,  in  anything  he  had  said,  the  fact 
that  his  head  contained  thoughts  or  information  of 
more  than  ordinary  value.  He  had  merely  created 
that  impression.  Even  his  discussion  of  the  Japanese 
problem  had  been  cursory,  and,  as  she  mentally  back 
tracked  on  their  conversation,  the  only  striking  re 
mark  of  his  which  she  recalled  was  his  whimsical  as 
surance  that  he  knew  why  young  turkeys  are  hard  to 
raise  in  the  fall.  She  smiled  to  herself. 

"Well,  Kay,  did  you  find  him  pleasant  company?" 

She  looked  up  and  discovered  her  father  slipping 
into  the  chair  so  lately  vacated  by  the  object  of  her 
thoughts. 

" 'Lo,  pop!  You  mean  the  ex-soldier?"  He  nod 
ded.  "Queerest  man  I've  ever  met.  But  he  is  pleasant 
company." 

"I  thought  so.  Tell  me,  daughter:  What  you  were 
smiling  about  just  now." 

"He  said  he  knew  why  young  turkeys  are  hard  to 
raise  in  the  fall." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  61 

"Why  are  they?" 

"I  don't  know,  dear.    He  didn't  tell  me.     Can  you?" 

"The  problem  is  quite  beyond  me,  Kay."  He  un 
folded  his  napkin.  "Splendid-looking  young  chap, 
that!  Struck  me  he  ought  to  have  more  in  his  head 
than  frivolous  talk  about  the  difficulty  of  rearing 
young  turkeys." 

"I  think  he  has  a  great  deal  more  in  his  head  than 
that.  In  fact,  I  do  not  understand  why  he  should  have 
mentioned  young  turkeys  at  all,  because  he's  a  cattle 
man.  And  he  comes  from  the  San  Gregorio  valley." 

"Indeed!     What's  his  name?" 

"He  didn't  tell  me.  But  he  knows  all  about  the 
ranch  you  took  over  from  the  Gonzales  estate." 

"But  I  didn't  foreclose  on  that.  It  was  the  Farrel 
estate." 

"He  called  ij;  something  else — the  Palomares  rancho, 
I  think." 

"Gonzales  owns  the  Palornares  rancho,  but  the  Pal- 
omar  rancho  belonged  to  old  Don  Miguel  Farrel." 

"Was  he  the  father  of  the  boy  they  call  'Don 
Mike' — he  who  was  killed  in  Siberia  ?" 

"The  same." 

"Why  did  you  have  to  foreclose  on  his  ranch, 
father?" 

"Well,  the  interest  had  been  unpaid  for  two  years, 
and  the  old  man  was  getting  pretty  feeble;  so,  after 
the  boy  was  killed,  I  realized  that  was  the  end  of  the 
Farrel  dynasty  and  that  the  mortgage  would  never  be 
paid.  Consequently,  in  self -protection,  I  foreclosed. 
Of  course,  under  the  law,  Don  Miguel  had  a  year's 
grace  in  which  to  redeem  the  property,  and  during 


62  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

that  year  I  couldn't  take  possession  without  first  prov 
ing  that  he  was  committing  waste  upon  it.  However, 
the  old  man  died  of  a  broken  heart  a  few  months  after 
receiving  news  of  his  son's  death,  and,  in  the  protection 
of  my  interest,  I  was  forced  to  petition  the  court  to 
grant  me  permission  to  enter  into  possession.  It  was 
my  duty  to  protect  the  equity  of  the  heirs,  if  any." 

"Are  there  any  heirs?" 

"None  that  we  have  been  able  to  discover." 

The  girl  thoughtfully  traced  a  pattern  on  the  table 
cloth  with  the  tine  of  her  fork. 

"How  will  it  be  possible  for  you  to  acquire  that 
horse,  Panchito,  for  me,  dearest?"  she  queried  pres 
ently. 

"I  have  a  deficiency  judgment  against  the  Rancho 
Palomar,"  he  explained.  "Consequently,  upon  the  ex 
piration  of  the  redemption  period  of  one  year,  I  shall 
levy  an  attachment  against  the  Farrel  estate.  All  the 
property  will  be  sold  at  public  auctior  ay  the  sheriff  to 
satisfy  my  deficiency  judgment,  and  1  shall,  of  course, 
bid  in  this  horse." 

"I  have  decided  I  do  not  want  him,  father,"  she  in 
formed  him  half  sadly.  "The  ex-soldier  is  an  old 
boyhood  chum  of  the  younger  Farrel  who  was  killed, 
and  he  wants  the  horse." 

He  glanced  at  her  with  an  expression  of  shrewd  sus 
picion. 

"As  you  desire,  honey,"  he  replied. 

"But  I  want  you  to  see  to  it  that  nobody  else  out 
bids  him  for  the  horse,"  she  continued,  earnestly.  "If 
some  one  should  run  the  price  up  beyond  the  limits 
of  his  purse,  of  course  I  want  you  to  outbid  that  some 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  63 

one,  but  what  I  do  not  desire  you  to  do  is  to  run  the 
price  up  on  him  yourself.  He  wants  the  horse  out  of 
sentiment,  and  it  isn't  nice  to  force  a  wounded  ex- 
service-man  to  pay  a  high  price  for  his  sentiment." 

"Oh,  I  understand  now,"  her  father  assured  her. 
"Very  well,  little  daughter;  I  have  my  orders  and  will 
obey  them." 

"Precious  old  darling!"  she  whispered,  gratefully, 
and  pursed  her  adorable  lips  to  indicate  to  him  that 
he  might  consider  himself  kissed.  His  stern  eyes  soft 
ened  in  a  glance  of  father-love  supreme. 

"Whose  little  girl  are  you?"  he  whispered,  and,  to 
that  ancient  query  of  parenthood,  she  gave  the  reply 
of  childhood: 

"Daddy's." 

''Just  for  that,  I'll  offer  the  soldier  a  tremendous 
profit  on  Panchito.  We'll  see  what  his  sentiment  is 
worth." 

"Bet  you  a  new  hat,  angel-face,  you  haven't  money 
enough  to  buy  him,"  Kay  challenged. 

"Considering  the  cost  of  your  hats,  I'd  be  giving 
you  rather  long  odds,  Kay.  You  say  this  young  man 
comes  from  the  San  Gregorio  valley?" 

"So  he  informed  me." 

"Well,  there  isn't  a  young  man  in  the  San  Gregorio 
who  doesn't  need  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  far 
worse  than  he  needs  a  horse.  I'll  take  your  bet, 
Peaches.  Of  course  you  mentioned  to  him  the  fact  that 
you  wanted  this  horse?" 

"Yes.  And  he  said  I  couldn't  have  him — that  he 
was  going  to  acquire  him." 

"Perhaps  he  was  merely  jesting  with  you." 


64,  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"No ;  he  meant  it." 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  smiling,  "that  it  is  most  unusual 
of  young  men  to  show  such  selfish  disregard  of  your 
expressed  desires." 

"Flatterer !  I  like  him  all  the  more  for  it.  He's  a 
man  with  some  backbone." 

"So  I  noticed.  He  wears  the  ribbon  of  the  Con 
gressional  Medal  of  Honor.  Evidently  he  is  given  to 
exceeding  the  speed-limit.  Did  he  tell  you  how  he  won 
that  pale-blue  ribbon  with  the  little  white  stars 
sprinkled  on  it?" 

"He  did  not.     Such  men  never  discuss  those  things." 

"Well,  they  raise  fighting  men  in  the  San  Gregorio, 
at  any  rate,"  her  father  continued.  "Two  Medal-of- 
Honor  men  came  out  of  it.  Old  Don  Miguel  FarrePs 
boy  was  awarded  one  posthumously.  I  was  in  El  Toro 
the  day  the  commanding  general  of  the  Western  De 
partment  came  down  from  San  Francisco  and  pinned 
the  medal  on  old  Don  Miguel's  breast.  The  old  fellow 
rode  in  on  his  son's  horse,  and  when  the  little  ceremony 
was  over,  he  mounted  and  rode  back  to  the  ranch  alone. 
Not  a  tear,  not  a  quiver.  He  looked  as  regal  as  the 
American  eagle — and  as  proud.  Looking  at  that  old 
don,  one  could  readily  imagine  the  sort  of  son  he  had 
bred.  The  only  trouble  with  the  Farrels,"  lie  added, 
critically,  "was  that  they  and  work  never  got  ac 
quainted.  If  these  old  Californians  would  consent  to 
imbibe  a  few  lessons  in  industry  and  economy  from 
their  Japanese  neighbors,  their  wonderful  state  would 
be  supporting  thirty  million  people  a  hundred  years 
from  now." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  65 

"I  wonder  how  many  of  that  mythical  thirty  mil 
lions  would  be  Japs?"  she  queried,  innocently. 

"That  is  a  problem  with  which  we  will  not  have  to 
concern  ourselves,  Kay,  because  we  shall  not  be  here." 

"Some  day,  popsy-wops,  that  soldier  will  drop  in  at 
our  ranch  and  lock  horns  with  you  on  the  Japanese 
question." 

"When  he  does,"  Parker  replied,  good-naturedly,  "I 
shall  make  a  star-spangled  monkey  out  of  him.  I'm 
loaded  for  these  Californians.  I've  investigated  their 
arguments,  and  they  will  not  hold  water,  I  tell  you. 
I'll  knock  out  the  contentions  of  your  unknown  knight 
like  tenpins  in  a  bowling-alley.  See  if  I  don't." 

"He's  nobody's  fool,  dad." 

"Quite  so.  He  knows  why  young  turkeys  are  hard 
to  raise  in  the  fall?" 

She  bent  upon  him  a  radiant  smile  of  the  utmost 
good  humor. 

"Score  one  for  the  unknown  knight,"  she  bantered. 
"That  is  more  than  we  know.  And  turkey  was  sixty 
cents  a  pound  last  Thanksgiving!  Curious  informa 
tion  from  our  view-point,  perhaps,  but  profitable." 

He  chuckled  over  his  salad. 

"You're  hopelessly  won  to  the  opposition,"  he  de 
clared.  "Leave  your  check  for  me,  and  I'll  pay  it. 
And  if  your  unknown  knight  returns  to  the 
observation-caV,  ask  him  about  those  confounded  tur 
keys." 


VI 


BUT  the  unknown  knight  had  not  returned  to  the 
observation-car  until  the  long-  train  was  sliding 
into  Sespe,  and  Kay  had  no  time  to  satisfy  her  thirst 
for  information  anent  young  turkeys.  With  unexpected 
garrulity,  he  had  introduced  himself;  with  the  re 
ceipt  of  this  information,  she  had  been  rendered 
speechless,  first  with  surprise,  and  then  with  distress 
as  her  alert  mind  swiftly  encompassed  the  pitiful  awak 
ening  that  was  coming  to  this  joyous  home-comer.  Be 
fore  she  could  master  her  emotions,  he  was  disappear 
ing  over  the  brass  rail  at  the  end  of  the  observation- 
car;  even  as  he  waved  her  a  debonair  farewell,  she 
caught  the  look  of  surprise  and  puzzlement  in  his  black 
eyes.  Wherefore,  she  knew  the  quick  tears  had  be* 
trayed  her. 

"Oh,  you  poor  fellow!"  she  whispered  to  herself,  as 
she  dabbed  at  her  eyes  with  a  wisp  of  a  lace  handker 
chief.  "What  a  tragedy !" 

What  a  tragedy,  indeed! 

She  had  never  been  in  the  San  Gregorio,  and  to-day 
was  to  mark  her  first  visit  to  the  Rancho  Palomar, 
although  her  father  and  mother  and  the  servants  had 
been  occupying  the  Farrel  hacienda  for  the  past  two 
months.  Of  the  beauty  of  that  valley,  of  the  charm 
of  that  ancient  seat,  she  had  heard  much  from  her 

66 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  67 

parents;  if  they  could  be  so  enthusiastic  about  it  in 
two  short  months,  how  tremendously  attached  to  it 
must  be  this  cheerful  Don  Mike,  who  had  been  born 
and  raised  there,  who  was  familiar  with  every  foot  of 
it,  and  doubtless  cherished  every  tradition  connected 
with  it.  He  had  imagination,  and  in  imaginative 
people  wounds  drive  deep  and  are  hard  to  heal;  he 
loved  this  land  of  his,  not  with  the  passive  loyalty  of 
the  average  American  citizen,  but  with  the  strange, 
passionate  intensity  of  the  native  Californian  for  his 
state.  She  had  met  many  Californians,  and,  in  this 
one  particular,  they  had  all  been  alike.  No  matter 
how  far  they  had  wandered  from  the  Golden  West,  no 
matter  how  long  or  how  pleasant  had  been  their  exile, 
they  yearned,  with  a  great  yearning,  for  that  intan 
gible  something  that  all  Californians  feel  but  can  never 
explain — which  is  found  nowhere  save  in  this  land  of 
romance  and  plenty,  of  hearty  good  will,  of  life  lived 
without  too  great  effort,  and  wherein  the  desire  to 
play  gives  birth  to  that  large  and  kindly  tolerance 
that  is  the  unfailing  sweetener  of  all  human  associa 
tion. 

And  Don  Mike  was  hurrying  home  to  a  grave  in  the 
valley,  to  a  home  no  longer  his,  to  the  shock  of  finding 
strangers  ensconced  in  the  seat  of  his  pridef ul  ances 
tors,  to  the  prospect  of  seeing  the  rich  acres  that 
should  have  been  his  giving  sustenance  to  an  alien  race, 
while  he  must  turn  to  a  brutal  world  for  his  daily 
bread  earned  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow. 

Curiously  enough,  in  that  moment,  without  having 
given  very  much  thought  to  the  subject,  she  decided 
that  she  must  help  him  bear  it.  In  a  vague  way,  she 


68  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

felt  that  she  must  see  him  and  talk  with  him  before  he 
should  come  in  contact  with  her  father  and  mother. 
She  wanted  to  explain  matters,  hoping-  that  he  would 
understand  that  she,  at  least,  was  one  of  the  inter 
lopers  who  were  not  hostile  to  him. 

For  she  did,  indeed,  feel  like  an  interloper  now.  But, 
at  the  same  time,  she  realized,  despite  her  small  knowl 
edge  of  the  law,  that,  until  the  expiration  of  the  re 
demption  period,  the  equity  of  Don  Mike  in  the  prop 
erty  was  unassailable.  With  that  unpleasant  sense  of 
having  intruded  came  the  realization  that  to-night  the 
Parker  family  would  occupy  the  position  of  uninvited 
and  unwelcome  guests.  It  was  not  a  comfortable 
thought. 

Fortunately,  the  potato  baron  and  her  father  were 
up  in  the  smoker;  hence,  by  the  time  the  train  paused 
at  El  Toro,  Kay  had  composed  herself  sufficiently  to 
face  her  father  again  without  betraying  to  him  any 
hint  of  the  mental  disturbance  of  the  past  forty  min 
utes.  She  directed  the  porter  in  the  disposition  of  Don 
Mike's  scant  impedimenta,  and  watched  to  see  that  the 
Parker  chauffeur  carried  it  from  the  station  platform 
over  to  the  waiting  automobile.  As  he  was  lashing 
their  hand-baggage  on  the  running-board,  she  said, 

"William,  how  long  will  it  take  you  to  get  out  to  the 
ranch?" 

"Twenty  miles,  miss,  over  a  narrow  dirt  road,  and 
some  of  it  winds  among  hills.  I  ought  to  do  it  handily 
in  an  hour  without  taking  any  chances." 

"Take  a  few  chances,"  she  ordered,  in  a  voice  meant 
for  his  ear  alone.  "I'm  in  a  hurry ." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  69 

"Forty-five  minutes,  miss,"  he  answered,  in  the  same 
confidential  tone. 

Kay  sat  in  the  front  seat  with  William,  while  her 
father  and  Okada  occupied  the  tonneau.  Within  a  few 
minutes,  they  were  clear  of  the  town  and  rolling 
swiftly  across  a  three-mile-wide  mesa.  Then  they  en 
tered  a  long,  narrow  canon,  which  they  traversed  for 
several  miles,  climbed  a  six-per-cent.  grade  to  the  crest 
of  a  ridge,  rolled  down  into  another  canon,  climbed 
another  ridge,  and  from  the  summit  gazed  down  on  the 
San  Gregorio  in  all  the  glory  of  her  new  April  gown. 
Kay  gasped  with  the  shock  of  such  loveliness,  and  laid 
a  detaining  hand  on  the  chauffeur's  arm.  Instantly 
he  stopped  the  car. 

"I  always  get  a  kick  out  of  the  view  from  here,  miss," 
he  informed  her.  "Can  you  beat  it?  You  can't!" 

The  girl  sat  with  parted  lips. 

"This — this  is  the  California  he  loves,"  she  thought. 

Ske  closed  her  eyes  to  keep  back  the  tears,  and  the 
car  rolled  gently  down  the  grade  into  the  valley.  From 
the  tonneau  she  could  catch  snatches  of  the  conversa 
tion  between  her  father  and  the  potato  baron;  they 
were  discussing  the  agricultural  possibilities  of  the 
valley,  and  she  realized,  with  a  little  twinge  of  outrage, 
that  its  wonderful  pastoral  beauty  had  been  quite  lost 
on  them. 

As  they  swept  past  the  mission,  Kay  deliberately  re 
frained  from  ordering  William  to  toss  Don  Mike's  bag 
gage  off  in  front  of  the  old  pile,  for  she  knew  now 
whither  the  latter  was  bound.  She  would  save  him 
that  added  burden.  Three  miles  from  the  mission,  the 
road  swung  up  a  gentle  grade  between  two  long  rows 


70  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

of  ancient  and  neglected  palms.  The  dead,  withered 
fronds  of  a  decade  still  clung  to  the  corrugated  trunks. 
In  the  adjoining  oaks  vast  flocks  of  crows  perched  and 
cawed  raucously.  This  avenue  of  palms  presently  de 
bouched  onto  a  little  mesa,  oak-studded  and  covered 
with  lush  grass,  which  gave  it  a  pretty,  parklike  effect. 
In  the  center  of  this  mesa  stood  the  hacienda  of  the 
Rancho  Palomar. 

Like  all  adobe  dwellings  of  its  class,  it  was  not, now, 
nor  had  it  ever  been,  architecturally  beautiful.  It  was 
low,  with  a  plain  hip-roof  covered  with  ancient  red  tiles, 
many  of  which  were  missing.  When  the  house  had  first 
been  built,  it  had  been  treated  to  a  coat  of  excellent 
plaster  over  the  adobe,  and  this  plaster  had  never  been 
renewed.  With  the  attrition  of  time  and  the  elements, 
it  had  worn  away  in  spots,  through  which  the  brown 
adobe  bricks  showed,  like  the  bones  in  a  decaying 
corpse.  The  main  building  faced  down  the  valley ;  from 
each  end  out,  an  ell  extended  to  form  a  patio  in  the 
rear,  while  a  seven-foot  adobe  wall,  topped  with  short 
tile,  connected  with  the  ell  and  formed  a  parallelogram. 

"The  old  ruin  doesn't  look  very  impressive  from  the 
front,  Kay,"  her  father  explained,  as  he  helped  her  out 
of  the  car,  "but  that  wall  hides  an  old-fashioned  garden 
that  will  delight  you.  A  porch  runs  all  round  the  in 
side  of  the  house,  and  every  door  opens  on  the  patio. 
That  long  adobe  barracks  over  yonder  used  to  house 
the  help.  In  the  old  days,  a  small  army  of  peons  was 
maintained  here.  The  small  adobe  house  back  there  in 
the  trees  houses  the  majordomo — that  old  rascal, 
Pablo." 

"He  is  still  here,  dad?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  71 

"Yes — and  as  belligerent  as  old  billy-owl.  He  pre 
tends  to  look  after  the  stock.  I  ordered  him  off  the 
ranch  last  week;  but  do  you  think  he'd  go?  Not  much.. 
He  went  inside  his  shack,  sorted  out  a  rifle,  came  out 
side,  sat  down,  and  fondled  the  weapon  all  day  long. 
Ever  since  then  he  has  carried  it,  mounted  or  afoot. 
So  I  haven't  bothered  him.  He's  a  bad  old  Indian, 
and  when  I  secure  final  title  to  the  ranch,  I'll  have  the 
sheriff  of  the  county  come  out  and  remove  him." 

"But  how  does  he  live,  dear?" 

"How  does  any  Indian  live?  He  killed  a  steer  last 
week,  jerked  half  of  it,  and  sold  the  other  half  for 
some  beans  and  flour.  It  wasn't  his  steer  and  it  wasn't 
mine.  It  belonged  to  the  Farrel  estate,  and,  since  there 
is  nobody  to  lodge  a  complaint  against  him,  I  suppose 
he'll  kill  another  steer  when  his  rations  run  low.  This 
way,  daughter.  Right  through  the  hole  in  the  wall." 

They  passed  through  a  big  inset  gate  in  the  adobe 
wall,  into  the  patio.  At  once  the  scent  of  lemon  and 
orange  blossoms,  mingled  with  the  more  delicate  aroma 
of  flowers,  assailed  them.  Kay  stood,  entranced,  gaz 
ing  upon  the  hodgepodge  of  color ;  she  had  the  feeling 
of  having  stepped  out  of  one  world  into  another. 

Her  father  stood  watching  her. 

"Wonderful  old  place,  isn't  it,  Kay?"  he  suggested. 
"The  garden  has  been  neglected,  but  I'm  going  to  clean 
it  out." 

"Do  not  touch  it,"  she  commanded,  almost  sharply. 
"I  want  it  the  way  it  is." 

"You  little  tyrant!"  he  replied  good-naturedly. 
"You  run  me  ragged  and  make  me  like  it." 

From  a  rocker  on  the  porch  at  the  eastern  end  of 


72  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

the  patio  Kay's  mother  rose  and  called  to  them,  and 
the  girl  darted  away  to  greet  her.  Mrs.  Parker  folded 
the  girl  to  a  somewhat  ample  bosom  and  kissed  her 
lovingly  on  her  ripe  red  lips ;  to  her  husband  she  pre 
sented  a  cheek  that  showed  to  advantage  the  artistry 
of  a  member  of  that  tribe  of  genii  who  strive  so  vali 
antly  to  hold  in  check  the  ravages  of  age.  At  fifty, 
Kay's  mother  was  still  a  handsome  woman;  her  car 
riage,  her  dress,  and  a  certain  repressed  vivacity  indi 
cated  that  she  had  mastered  the  art  of  growing  old 
gracefully. 

"Well,  kitten,"1  she  said,  a  trifle  louder  and  shriller 
than  one  seemed  to  expect  of  her,  "are  you  going  to 
remain  with  us  a  little  while,  or  will  next  week  see  you 
scampering  away  again?" 

"I'll  stay  all  summer,  fuss-budget.  I'm  going  to 
paint  the  San  Gregorio  while  it's  on  exhibition,  and 
then  this  old  house  and  the  garden.  Oh,  mother  dear, 
I'm  in  love  with  it !  It's  wonderful !" 

The  potato  baron  had  followed  Parker  and  his 
daughter  into  the  patio,  and  stood  now,  showing  all  of 
his  teeth  in  an  amiable  smile.  Parker  suddenly  remem 
bered  his  guest. 

"My  dear,"  he  addressed  his  wife,  "I  have  brought  a 
guest  with  me.  This  is  Mr.  Okada,  of  whom  I  wrote 
you." 

Okada  bowed  low — as  low  as  the  rules  of  Japanese 
etiquette  prescribe,  which  is  to  say  that  he  bent  him 
self  almost  double.  At  the  same  time,  he  lifted  his  hat. 
Then  he  bowed  again  twice,  and,  with  a  pleasing  smile 
proffered  his  hand.  Mrs.  Parker  took  it  and  shook  it 
with  hearty  good  will. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  73 

"You  are  very  welcome,  Mr.  Okada,"  she  shrilled. 
"Murray,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  butler,  who  was 
approaching  with  Okada's  suitcase,  "show  the  gentle 
man  to  the  room  with  the  big  bed  in  it.  Dinner  will 
be  ready  at  six,  Mr.  Okada.  Please  do  not  bother  to 
dress  for  dinner.  We're  quite  informal  here." 

"Sank  you  very  much,"  he  replied,  with  an  unpleas 
ant  whistling  intake  of  breath ;  with  another  profound 
bow  to  the  ladies,  he  turned  and  followed  Murray  to 
his  room. 

"Well,  John,"  Mrs.  Parker  demanded,  as  the  Japan 
ese  disappeared,  "your  little  playmate's  quite  like  a 
mechanical  toy.  For  heaven's  sake,  where  did  you  pal 
up  with  him?" 

"That's  the  potato  baron  of  the  San  Joaquin  valle}^ 
Kate,"  he  informed  her.  "I'm  trying  to  interest  him 
in  a  colonization  scheme  for  his  countrymen.  A  thou 
sand  Japs  in  the  San  Gregorio  can  raise  enough  gar 
den-truck  to  feed  the  city  of  Los  Angeles — and  they 
will  pay  a  whooping  price  for  good  land  with  water 
on  it.  So  I  brought  him  along  for  a  preliminary  sur 
vey  of  the  deal." 

"He's  very  polite,  but  I  imagine  he's  not  very  bril 
liant  company,"  his  wife  averred  frankly.  "When  you 
wired  me  you  were  bringing  a  guest,  I  did  hope  you'd 
bring  some  jolly  young  jackanapes  to  amuse  Kay  and 
me." 

She  sighed  and  settled  back  in  her  comfortable 
rocking-chair,  while  Kay,  guided  by  a  maid,  proceeded 
to  her  room.  A  recent  job  of  calcimining  had  trans 
formed  the  room  from  a  dirty  grayish  white  to  a  soft 
shade  of  pink;  the  old-fashioned  furniture  had  been 


74.  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"done  over,"  and  glowed  dully  in  the  fading  light.  Kay 
threw  open  the  small  square-hinged  window,  gazed 
through  the  iron  bars  sunk  in  the  thick  walls,  and  she 
found  herself  looking  down  the  valley,  more  beautiful 
than  ever  now  in  the  rapidly  fading  light. 

"I'll  have  to  wait  outside  for  him,"  she  thought. 
"It  will  be  dark  when  he  gets  here." 

She  washed  and  changed  into  a  dainty  little  dinner 
dress,  after  which  she  went  on  a  tour  of  exploration  of 
the  hacienda.  Her  first  port  of  call  was  the  kitchen. 

"Nishi,"  she  informed  the  cook,  "a  gentleman  will 
arrive  shortly  after  the  family  has  finished  dinner. 
Keep  his  dinner  in  the  oven.  Murray  will  serve  it  to 
him  in  his  room,  I  think." 

She  passed  out  through  the  kitchen,  and  found  her 
self  in  the  rear  of  the  hacienda.  A  hundred  yards 
distant,  she  saw  Pablo  Artelan  squatting  on  his  heels 
beside  the  portal  of  his  humble  residence,  his  back 
against  the  wall.  She  crossed  over  to  him,  smiling  as 
she  came. 

"How  do  you  do,  Pablo  ?"  she  said.  "Have  you  for 
gotten  me?  I'm  the  girl  to  whom  you  were  kind 
enough  to  give  a  ride  on  Panchito  one  day  in  El  Toro." 

The  glowering  glance  of  suspicion  and  resentment 
faded  slowly  from  old  Pablo's  swarthy  countenance. 
He  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  swept  the  ground  with 
his  old  straw  sombrero. 

"I  am  at  the  service  of  the  senorita,"  he  replied, 
gravely. 

"Thank  you,  Pablo.  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  that 
you  need  not  carry  that  rifle  any  more.  I  shall  see 
to  it  that  you  are  not  removed  from  the  ranch." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  75 

He  stared  at  her  with  stolid  interest. 

"Muchas  gracias,  senorita"  he  mumbled.  Then,  re 
membering  she  did  not  understand  Spanish,  he  resumed 
in  English:  "I  am  an  old  man,  mees.  Since  my  two 
boss  he's  die,  pretty  soon  Pablo  die,  too.  For  what 
use  eet  is  for  live  now  I  don'  tell  you.  Those  ol'  man 
who  speak  me  leave  theese  rancho — he  is  your  father, 
no?" 

"Yes,  Pablo.  And  he  isn't  such  a  terrible  man, 
once  you  get  acquainted  with  him." 

"I  don'  like,"  Pablo  muttered  frankly.  "He  have 
eye  like  lookin'-glass.  Mebbeso  for  you,  mees,  eet 

is  different,  but  for  Pablo  Artelan "  he  shrugged. 

"Eef  Don  Mike  is  here,  nobody  can  talk  to  me  like 
dose  ol'  man,  your  father,  he  speak  to  me."  And  he 
wagged  his  head  sorrowfully. 

Kay  came  close  to  him. 

"Listen,  Pablo :  I  have  a  secret  for  you.  You  must 
not  tell  anybody.  Don  Mike  is  not  dead." 

He  raised  his  old  head  with  languid  interest  and 
nodded  comprehension. 

"My  wife,  Carolina,  she  tell  me  same  thing  all  time. 
She  say:  'Pablo  ra&0,  somebody  make  beeg  mistake. 
Don  Mike  come  home  pretty  queeck,  you  see.  Nobody 
can  keel  Don  Mike.  Nobody  have  that  mean  the  dees- 
position  for  keel  the  boy.'  But  I  don*  theenk  Don 
Mike  come  back  to  El  Palomar." 

"Carolina  is  right,  Pablo.  Somebody  did  make  a 
big  mistake.  He  was  wounded  in  the  hand,  but  not 
killed.  I  saw  him  to-day,  Pablo,  on  the  train." 

"You  see  Don  Mike?     You  see  heem  with  the  eye?'* 


76  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

"Yes.  And  he  spoke  to  me  with  the  tongue.  He  will 
arrive  here  in  an  hour." 

Pablo  was  on  his  knees  before  her,  groping  for  her 
hand.  Finding  it,  he  carried  it  to  his  lips.  Then, 
leaping  to  his  feet  with  an  alacrity  that  belied  his 
years,  he  yelled: 

"Carolina !  Come  queeck,  Pronto!  Aqui,  Caro 
lina." 

"Si,  Pablo  mio." 

Carolina  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  was  literally 
deluged  with  a  stream  of  Spanish.  She  stood  there, 
hands  clasped  on  her  tremendous  bosom,  staring  un 
believingly  at  the  bearer  of  these  tidings  of  great  joy, 
the  while  tears  cascaded  down  her  flat,  homely  face. 
With  a  snap  of  his  fingers,  Pablo  dismissed  her;  then 
he  darted  into  the  house  and  emerged  with  his  rifle. 
A  cockerel,  with  the  carelessness  of  youth,  had  selected 
for  his  roost  the  limb  of  an  adjacent  oak  and  was  still 
gazing  about  him  instead  of  secreting  his  head  under 
his  wing,  as  cockerels  should  at  sunset.  Pablo  neatly 
shot  his  head  off,  seized  the  fluttering  carcass,  and 
started  plucking  out  the  feathers  with  neatness  and 
despatch. 

"Don  Mike,  he's  like  gallma  con  urroz  espagnol," 
he  explained.  "What  you  call  chick-een  with  rice 
Spanish,"  he  interpreted.  "Eet  mus*  not  be  that  Don 
Mike  come  home  and  Carolina  have  not  cook  for  heem 
the  grub  he  like.  Carramba!" 

"But  he  cannot  possibly  eat  a  chicken  before — I 
mean,  it's  too  soon.  Don  Mike  will  not  eat  that 
chicken  before  the  animal-heat  is  out  of  it." 

"You  don*  know  Don  Mike,  mees.     W'en  dat  boy 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  77 

he's    hongry,    he    don9    speak    so    many    questions." 

"But  I've  told  our  cook  to  save  dinner  for  him." 

"Your  cook!  Sefiorita,  I  don'  like  make  fun  for 
you,  but  I  guess  you  don'  know  my  wife  Carolina,  she 
have  been  cook  for  Don  Miguel  and  Don  Mike  since 
long  time  before  he's  bceg  like  little  kitten.  Don  Mike, 
he  don'  understan*  those  gringo  grub." 

"Listen,  Pablo :  There  is  no  time  to  cook  Don  Mike 
a  Spanish  dinner.  He  must  eat  gringo  grub  to-night. 
^Tell  me,  Pablo:  Which  room  did  Don  Mike  sleep  in 
when  he  was  homer? 

"The  room  in  front  the  house — the  beeg  room  with 
the  beeg  black  bed.  Carolina !"  He  threw  the  half- 
plucked  chicken  at  the  old  cook,  wiped  his  hands  on  his 
overalls,  and  started  for  the  hacienda.  "I  go  for 
make  the  bed  for  Don  Mike,"  he  explained,  and  started 
running. 

Kay  followed  breathlessly,  but  he  reached  the  patio 
before  her,  scuttled  along  the  porch  with  surprising 
speed,  and  darted  into  the  room.  Immediately  the  girl 
heard  his  voice  raised  angrily. 

"Hullo!  What  you  been  do  in  my  boss's  room? 
Madre  de  Dios!  You  theenk  I  let  one  Chinaman — no, 
one  Jap — sleep  in  the  bed  of  Don  Victoriano  Noriaga. 
No !  Vamos!" 

There  was  a  slight  scuffle,  and  the  potato  baron 
came  hurtling  through  the  door,  propelled  on  the  boot 
of  the  aged  but  exceedingly  vigorous  Pablo.  Evidently 
the  Jap  had  been  taken  by  surprise.  He  rolled  off  the 
porch  into  a  flower-bed,  recovered  himself,  and  flew  at 
Pablo  with  the  ferocity  of  a  bulldog.  To  the  credit 


78  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

of  his  race,  be  it  said  that  it  does  not  subscribe  to  the 
philosophy  of  turning  the  other  cheek. 

But  Pablo  was  a  peon.  From  somewhere  on  his 
person,  he  produced  a  dirk  and  slashed  vigorously* 
Okada  evaded  the  blow,  and  gave  ground. 

"Qwtdadof"  Pablo  roared,  and  charged;  whereupon 
the  potato  baron,  evidently  impressed  with  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancient  adage  that  discretion  is  the  better  part 
of  valor,  fled  before  him.  Pablo  followed,  opened  the 
patio  gate,  and,  with  his  long  dirk,  motioned  the  Jap 
to  disappear  through  it.  "The  hired  man,  he  don' 
sleep  in  the  bed  of  the  gente"  he  declared.  "The  barn 
is  too  good  for  one  Jap.  Santa  Maria!  For  why  I 
don*  keel  you,  I  don'  know." 

"Pablo !" 

The  majordomo  turned. 

"Yes,  mees  lady." 

"Mr.  Okada  is  our  guest.  I  command  you  to  leave 
him  alone.  Mr.  Okada,  I  apologize  to  you  for  Pablo's 
impetuosity.  He  is  not  a  servant  of  ours,  but  a  re 
tainer  of  the  former  owner.  Pablo,  will  you  please 
attend  to  your  own  business?"  Kay  was  angry  now, 
and  Pablo  realized  it. 

"Don  Mike's  beesiness,  she  is  my  beesiness,  too, 
senorita"  he  growled. 

"Yes;  I  zink  so,"  Okada  declared.  "I  zink  I  go 
'nother  room." 

"Murray  will  prepare  one  for  you,  Mr.  Okada.  I'm 
so  sorry  this  has  happened.  Indeed  I  am!" 

Pablo  hooted. 

"You  sorry,  mees?  Wait  until  my  Don  Mike  he's 
come  home  and  find  thees  fellow  in  hees  house." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  79 

He  closed  the  gate,  returned  to  the  room,  and  made 
a  critical  inspection  of  the  apartment.  Kay  could 
see  him  wagging  his  grizzled  head  approvingly  as  she 
came  to  the  door  and  looked  in. 

"Where  those  fellow  El  Mono,  he  put  my  boss's 
clothes?"  Pablo  demanded. 

"'El  Mono?9    Whom  do  you  mean,  Pablo?" 

"El  Mono — the  monkey.  He  wear  long  tail  to  the 
coat;  all  the  time  he  look  like  mebbeso  somebody  in 
the  house  she's  goin'  die  pretty  queeck." 

"Oh,  you  mean  Murray,  the  butler." 

Pablo  was  too  ludicrous,  and  Kay  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  porch  and  laughed  until  she  wept.  Then, 
as  Pablo  still  stood  truculently  in  the  doorway,  wait 
ing  an  answer  to  his  query,  she  called  to  Murray,  who 
had  rushed  to  the  aid  of  the  potato  baron,  and  asked 
him  if  he  had  found  any  clothing  in  the  room,  and, 
if  so,  what  he  had  done  with  it. 

"I  spotted  and  pressed  them  all,  Miss  Kay,  and 
hung  them  in  the  clothes-press  of  the  room  next  door." 

"I  go  get,"  growled  Pablo,  and  did  so;  whereupon 
the  artful  Murray  took  advantage  of  his  absence  to 
dart  over  to  the  royal  chamber  and  remove  the  potato 
baron's  effects. 

"I  don't  like  that  blackamoor,  Miss  Kay,"  El  Mono 
confided  to  the  girl.  "I  feel  assured  he  is  a  desperate 
vagabond  to  whom  murder  and  pillage  are  mere  pas 
times.  Please  order  him  out  of  the  garden.  He  pays 
no  attention  to  me  whatsoever." 

"Leave  him  severely  alone,"  Kay  advised.  "I  will 
find  a  way  to  handle  him." 

Pablo  returned  presently,  with  two  suits  of  clothing, 


80  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

a  soft  white-linen  shirt,  a  black  necktie,  a  pair  of  low- 
cut  brown  shoes,  and  a  pair  of  brown  socks.  These 
articles  he  laid  out  on  the  bed.  Then  he  made  another 
trip  to  the  other  room,  and  returned  bearing  an  armful 
of  framed  portraits  of  the  entire  Noriaga  and  Farrel 
dynasty,  which  he  proceeded  to  hang  in  a  row  on  the 
wall  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Lastly,  he  removed  a 
rather  fancy  spread  from  the  bed  and  substituted 
therefor  an  ancient  silk  crazy-quilt  that  had  been  made 
by  Don  Mike's  grandmother.  Things  were  now  as  they 
used  to  be,  and  Pablo  was  satisfied. 

When  he  came  out,  Kay  had  gone  in  to  dinner;  so 
he  returned  to  his  own  casa  and  squatted  against  the 
wall,  with  his  glance  fixed  upon  the  point  in  the  palm 
avenue  where  it  dipped  over  the  edge  of  the  mesa. 


vn 


AT  seven  o'clock,  dinner  being  over,  Kay  excused 
herself  to  the  family  and  Mr.  Okada,  passed  out 
through  the  patio  gate,  and  sought  a  bench  which  she 
had  noticed  under  a  catalpa  tree  outside  the  wall. 
From  this  seat,  she,  like  Pablo,  could  observe  anybody 
coming  up  the  palm-lined  avenue.  A  young  moon  was 
rising  over  £he  hills,  and  by  its  light  Kay  knew  she 
could  detect  Don  Mike  while  he  was  yet  some  distance 
from  the  house. 

At  seven-thirty,  he  had  not  appeared,  and  she  grew 
impatient  and  strolled  round  to  the  other  side  of  the 
hacienda.  Before  Pablo's  casa,  she  saw  the  red  end  of 
a  cigarette;  so  she  knew  that  Pablo  also  watched. 

"I  must  see  him  first,"  she  decided.  "Pablo's  heart 
is  right  toward  Don  Mike,  but  resentful  toward  us. 
I  do  not  want  him  to  pass  that  resentment  on  to  his 
master." 

She  turned  back  round  the  hacienda  again,  crossed 
down  over  the  tip  of  the  mesa  at  right  angles  to  the 
avenue,  and  picked  her  way  through  the  oaks.  When 
she  was  satisfied  that  Pablo  could  not  see  her,  she  made 
her  way  back  to  the  avenue,  emerging  at  the  point 
where  it  connected  with  the  wagon-road  down  the 
valley.  Just  off  the  avenue,  a  live-oak  had  fallen,  and 
Kay  sat  down  on  the  trunk  of  it  to  watch  and  wait. 

81 


82  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Presently  she  saw  him  coming,  and  her  heart  flut 
tered  in  fear  at  the  meeting.  She,  who  had  for  months 
marked  the  brisk  tread  of  military  men,  sensed  now  the 
drag,  the  slow  cadence  of  his  approach;  wherefore  she 
realized  that  he  knew !  In  the  knowledge  that  she  would 
not  have  to  break  the  news  to  him,  a  sense  of  comfort 
stole  over  her. 

As  he  came  closer,  she  saw  that  he  walked  with  his 
chin  on  his  breast;  when  he  reached  the  gate  at  the 
end  of  the  avenue,  he  did  not  see  it  and  bumped  into  it. 
"Dios  Tnio!"  she  heard  him  mutter.  "Dios!  Dios! 
Dios!"  The  last  word  ended  in  tragic  crescendo ;  he 
leaned  on  the  gate,  and  there,  in  the  white  silence, 
the  last  of  the  Farrels  stood  gazing  up  the  avenue  as 
if  he  feared  to  enter. 

Kay  sat  on  the  oak  trunk,  staring  at  him,  fascinated 
by  the  tragic  tableau. 

Suddenly,  from  the  hacienda,  a  hound  gave  tongue — 
a  long,  bell-like  baying,  with  a  timbre  in  it  that  never 
creeps  into  a  hound's  voice  until  he  has  struck  a  warm 
scent.  Another  hound  took  up  the  cry — and  still  an 
other.  Don  Mike  started. 

"That's  Nip!'*  Kay  heard  him  murmur,  as  the  first 
hound  sounded.  "Now,  Mollie!  Come  now,  Nailer! 
Where's  Hunter?  Hunter's  dead!  You've  scented 
me!" 

Across  the  mesa,  the  pack  came  bellowing,  scattering 
the  wet  leaves  among  the  oaks  as  they  took  the  short 
cut  to  the  returning  master.  Into  the  avenue  they 
swept ;  the  leader  leaped  for  the  top  of  the  gate,  poised 
there  an  instant,  and  fell  over  into  Don  Mike's  arms. 
The  others  followed,  overwhelming  him.  They  licked 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  83 

his  hands;  they  soiled  him  with  their  reaching  paws, 
the  while  their  cries  of  welcome  testified  to  their  de1 
light.  Presently,  one  grew  jealous  of  the  other  in  the 
mad  scramble  for  his  caressing  hand,  and  Nip  bit 
Mollie,  who  retaliated  by  biting  Nailer,  who  promptly 
bit  Nip,  thus  completing  the  vicious  circle.  In  an  in 
stant,  they  were  battling  each  other. 

"Stop  it!"  Don  Mike  commanded.     "Break!" 

They  "broke"  at  his  command,  and,  forgetting  their 
animosities,  began  running  in  circles,  in  a  hopeless  ef 
fort  to  express  their  happiness.  Suddenly,  as  if  by 
common  impulse,  they  appeared  to  remember  a  neg 
lected  duty,  and  fled  noisily  whence  they  had  come. 

"Ah,  only  my  dogs  to  welcome  me !"  Kay  heard  Don 
Mike  murmur.  And  then  the  stubborn  tears  came  and 
blinded  him,. so  he  did  not  see  her  white  figure  step  out 
into  the  avenue  and  come  swiftly  toward  him.  The 
first  he  knew  of  her  presence  was  when  her  hand 
touched  his  glistening  black  head  bent  on  his  arms  over 
the  top  rail  of  the  gate. 

"No,  no,  Don  Mike,"  he  heard  a  sweet  voice  pro 
testing;  "somebody  else  cares,  too.  We  wouldn't  be 
human  if  we  didn't.  Please — please  try  not  to  feel  so 
badly  about  it." 

He  raised  his  haggard  face. 

"Ah,  yes — you!"  he  cried.  "You — you've  been 
waiting  here — for  me?" 

"Yes.  I  wanted  to  tell  you — to  explain  before  you 
got  to  the  house.  We  didn't  know,  you  see — and  the 
notice  was  so  terribly  short;  but  we'll  go  in  the  morn 
ing.  I've  saved  dinner  for  you,  Don  Mike — and  your 


84  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

old  room  is  ready  for  you.  Oh,  you  don't  know  how 
sorry  I  am  for  you,  you  poor  man !" 

He  hid  his  face  again. 

"Don't — please!"  he  cried,  in  a  choked  voice.  "I 
can't  stand  sympathy — to-night — from  you!" 

She  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Come,  come;  you  must  buck  up,  old  soldier,"  she 
assured  him.  "You'll  have  to  meet  Pablo  and  Carolina 
very  soon." 

"I'm  so  alone  and  desperate,"  he  muttered,  through 
clenched  teeth.  "You  can't — realize  what  this  means — 
to  me.  My  father  was  an  old  man — he  had — accom 
plished  his  years — and  I  weep  for  him,  because  I  loved — 
him.  But  oh,  my  home — this — dear  land " 

He  choked,  and,  in  that  moment,  she  forgot  that 
this  man  was  a  stranger  to  her.  She  only  knew  that 
he  had  been  stricken,  that  he  was  helpless,  that  he 
lacked  the  greatest  boon  of  the  desolate — a  breast  upon 
which  he  might  weep.  Gently  she  lifted  the  black  head 
and  drew  it  down  on  her  shoulder ;  her  arm  went  round 
his  neck  and  patted  his  cheek,  and  his  full  heart  was 
emptied. 

There  was  so  much  of  the  little  boy  about  him ! 


VIII 


THE  fierce  gust  of  emotion  which  swept  Don  Mike 
Farrel  was  of  brief  duration.  He  was  too  sane, 
too  courageous  to  permit  his  grief  to  overwhelm  him 
completely;  he  had  the  usual  masculine  horror  of  an 
exhibition  of  weakness,  and  although  the  girl's  sweet 
sympathy  and  genuine  womanly  tenderness  had  caught 
him  unawares,  he  was,  nevertheless,  not  insensible  of 
the  incongruity  of  a  grown  man  weeping  like  a  child 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  young  woman — and  a  strange 
young  woman  at  that.  With  a  supreme  effort  of  will, 
he  regained  control  of  himself  as  swiftly  as  he  had  lost 
it,  and  began  fumbling  for  a  handkerchief. 

"Here,"  she  murmured;  "use  mine."  She  reached 
up  and,  with  her  dainty  wisp  of  handkerchief,  wiped 
his  wet  cheeks  exactly  as  if  he  had  been  a  child. 

He  caught  the  hand  that  wielded  the  handkerchief 
and  kissed  it  gratefully,  reverently. 

"God  bless  your  dear,  kind  heart !"  he  murmured. 
"I  had  thought  nobody  could  possibly  care — that 
much.  So  few  people — have  any  interest  in  the — un- 
happiness  of  others."  He  essayed  a  twisted  smile. 
"I'm  not  usually  this  weak,"  he  continued,  apologeti 
cally.  "I  never  knew  until  to-night  that  I  could  be 
such  a  lubberly  big  baby,  but,  then,  I  wasn't  set  for 
this  blow.  This  afternoon,  life  executed  an  about  face 

85 


86  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

for  me — and  the  dogs  got  me  started  after  I'd  prom 
ised  myself "  He  choked  again  on  the  last  word. 

She  patted  his  shoulder  in  comradely  fashion. 

"Buck  up,  Don  Mike!"  she  pleaded.  "Tears  from 
such  men  as  you  are  signs  of  strength,  not  weakness. 
And  remember — life  has  a  habit  of  obeying  command 
ing  men.  It  may  execute  another  about  face  for  you." 

"I've  lost  everything  that  made  life  livable,"  he  pro 
tested. 

"Ah !  No,  no !  You  must  not  say  that.  Think  of 
that  cheerful  warrior  who,  in  defeat,  remarked,  'All  is 
lost  save  honor.' '  And  she  touched  the  pale-blue  star- 
sprinkled  ribbon  on  his  left  breast. 

He  smiled  again  the  twisted  smile. 

"That  doesn't  amount  to  a  row  of  pins  in  civil  life." 
Something  of  that  sense  of  bitter  disillusionment,  of 
blasted  idealism,  which  is  the  immediate  aftermath  of 
war,  had  crept  into  his  voice.  "The  only  thrill  I  ever 
got  out  of  its  possession  was  in  the  service.  My  colonel 
was  never  content  merely  with  returning  my  salute. 
He  always  uncovered  to  me.  That  ribbon  will  have 
little  weight  with  your  father,  I  fear,  when  I  ask  him 
to  set  aside  the  foreclosure,  grant  me  a  new  mortgage, 
and  give  me  a  fighting  chance  to  retain  the  thing  I 
love."  And  his  out.flung  arm  indicated  the  silent, 
moonlit  valley. 

"Perhaps,"  she  replied,  soberly.  "He  is  a  business 
man.  Nevertheless,  it  might  not  be  a  bad  idea  if  you 
were  to  defer  the  crossing  of  your  bridges  until  you 
come  to  them."  She  unlatched  the  gate  and  swung  it 
open  for  him  to  pass  through. 

He  hesitated. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  87 

"I  didn't  intend  to  enter  the  house  to-night,"  he  ex 
plained.  "I  merely  wanted  to  see  Pablo  and  have  a 
talk  with  him.  My  sudden  appearance  on  the  scene 
might,  perhaps,  prove  very  embarrassing1  to  your 
family." 

"I  dare  say.  But  that  cannot  be  helped.  Your 
right  of  entrance  and  occupancy  cannot  be  questioned. 
Until  the  period  of  redemption  expires,  I  think  nobody 
will  dispute  your  authority  as  master  here." 

"I  had  forgotten  that  phase  of  the  situation.  Thank 
you."  He  passed  through  the  gate  and  closed  it  for 
her.  Then  he  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  road,  wet  his 
handkerchief  in  a  pool  of  clean  rain-water,  and  mopped 
his  eyes.  "I'll  have  to  abandon  the  luxury  of  tears," 
he  declared,  grimly.  "They  make  one's  eyes  burn.  By 
the  way,  I  do  not  know  your  name." 

"I  am  Kay  Parker."  " 

"'Kay'  for  what?" 

"Kathleen." 

He  nodded  approvingly. 

"You  neglected  to  leave  my  dunnage  at  the  mission, 
Miss  Parker." 

"After  you  told  me  who  you  were,  I  realized  you 
would  sleep  at  the  ranch  to-night,  so  I  kept  your  things 
in  the  car.  They  are  in  your  old  room  now." 

"Thank  you  for  an  additional  act  of  kindness  and 
thoughtfulness."  He  adjusted  his  overseas  cap, 
snugged  his  blouse  down  over  his  hips,  flipped  from  it 
the  wet  sand  deposited  there  by  the  paws  of  the  hound- 
pack,  and  said,  "Let's  go." 

Where  the  avenue  debouched  into  the  ranch-yard, 
Pablo  and  Carolina  awaited  them.  The  old  major- 


88  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

domo  was  wrapped  in  aboriginal  dignity.  His  Indian 
Hood  bade  him  greet  Don  Mike  as  casually  as 
if  the  latter  had  merely  Been  sojourning  in  El  Toro 
the  past  two  years,  but  the  faint  strain  of  Spanish  in 
him  dictated  a  different  course  as  Don  Mike  stepped 
briskly  up  to  him  with  outstretched  hand  and  greeted 
him  affectionately  in  Spanish.  Off  came  the  weather- 
stained  old  sombrero,  flung  to  the  ground  beside  him, 
as  Pablo  dropped  on  his  knees,  seized  his  master's  hand, 
and  bowed  his  head  over  it. 

"Don  Miguel,"  he  said,  "my  life  is  yours." 

"I  know  it,  you  blessed  -old  scalawag!"  Don  Mike 
replied  in  English,  and  ruffled  the  grizzled  old  head 
before  passing  on  to  the  expectant  Carolina,  who 
folded  him  tightly  in  her  arms  and  wept  soundlessly 
when  he  kissed  her  leathery  cheek.  While  he  was  mur 
muring  words  of  comfort  to  her,  Pablo  got  up  on  his 
feet  and  recovered  his  hat. 

"You  see,"  he  said  to  Kay,  in  a  confidential  tone, 
"Don  Miguel  Jose  Maria  Federico  Noriaga  Farrel 
loves  us.  Never  no  woman  those  boy  kees  since  hees 
mother  die  twenty  year  before.  So  Carolina  have  the 
great  honor  like  me.  Yes !" 

"Oh,  but  you  haven't  seen  him  kiss  his  sweetheart," 
Kay  bantered  the  old  man — and  then  blushed,  in  the 
guilty  knowledge  that  her  badinage  had  really  been: 
inspired  by  a  sudden  desire  to  learn  whether  Don  Mike 
had  a  sweetheart  or  not.  Pablo  promptly  and  pro 
fanely  disillusioned  her. 

"  "Those  boy,  he  don7  have  some  sweethearts,  mees 
lady.  He's  pretty  parteecular."  He  paused  a  mo 
ment  and  looked  her  in  the  face  meaningly.  "Those 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  89 

girls  in  thees  country — pah!  Hee's  pretty  parteec- 
ular,  those  boy." 

His  childish  arrogance  and  consuming  pride  in  his 
master  stirred  the  girl's  sense  of  humor. 

"I  think  your  Don  Mike  is  too  particular,"  she 
whispered.  "Personally,  I  wouldn't  marry  him  on  a 
bet." 

His  slightly  bloodshot  eyes  nickered  with  rage. 

"You  never  get  a  chance,"  he  assured  her.  "Those 
boy  is  of  the  gente.  An'  we  don'  call  heem  'Don  Mike' 
now.  Before,  yes ;  but  now  he  is  'Don  Miguel,'  like 
hees  father.  Same,  too,  like  hees  gran'father." 

Throughout  this  colloquy,  Carolina  had  been  busy 
exculpating  herself  from  possible  blame  due  to  her 
failure  to  have  prepared  for  the  prodigal  the  sort  of 
food  she  knew  he  preferred. 

Farrel  had  quite  a  task  pacifying  her.  At  length 
he  succeeded  in  gently  dismissing  both  servants,  and 
followed  Kay  toward  the  patio. 

The  girl  entered  first,  and  discovered  that  her 
family  and  their  guest  were  not  on  the  veranda,  whereat 
she  turned  and  gave  her  hand  to  Farrel. 

"The  butler  will  bring  you  some  dinner  to  your 
room.  We  breakfast  at  eight-thirty.  Good-night." 

"Thank  you,"  he  replied.  "I  shall  be  deeper  in 
your  debt  if  you  will  explain  to  your  father  and 
mother  my  apparent  lack  of  courtesy  in  failing  to  call 
upon  them  this  evening." 

He  held  her  hand  for  a  moment.  Then  he  bowed, 
gracefully  and  with  studied  courtesy,  cap  in  hand,  and 
waited  until  she  had  turned  to  leave  him  before  he,  in 
turn,  betook  himself  to  his  room. 


IX 


IT  was  as  he  had  left  it.  He  smiled  sadly  as  he  noted 
his  civilian  clothes  laid  out  on  the  bed.  However, 
he  would  not  wear  them  to-night.  A  little  later,  while 
he  was  hanging  them  in  the  clothes-press,  a  propitiatory 
cough  sounded  at  the  door.  Turning,  he  beheld  the 
strangest  sight  ever  seen  on  the  Rancho  Palomar — 
a  butler,  bearing  a  tray  covered  with  a  napkin. 

"Good-evening,"  quoth  Don  Miguel  civilly.  "Set  it 
down  on  the  little  table  yonder,  please.  May  I  inquire 
why  you  bear  the  tray  on  your  left  hand  and  carry 
a  pistol  in  your  right?" 

"Your  servant,  the  man  Pablo,  has  threatened  my 
life,  sir,  if  I  dared  bear  your  dinner  to  you,  sir.  He 
met  me  a  moment  ago  and  demanded  that  I  surrender 
the  tray  to  him,  sir.  Instead,  I  returned  to  the  kitchen, 
possessed  myself  of  this  pistol,  and  defied  him,  sir." 

"I  apologize  for  Pablo,  and  will  see  to  it  that  he 
does  not  disturb  you  again — er " 

"Murray,  sir." 

"Thank  you,  Murray." 

The  butler  was  about  to  advance  into  the  room  and 
set  the  tray  on  the  table  as  directed,  when  an  unex 
pected  contretemps  occurred.  A  swarthy  hand  followed 
by  a  chambray-clad  arm  was  thrust  in  the  door,  and  the 
pistol  snatched  out  of  Murray's  hand  before  the  latter 

90 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  91 

even  knew  what  was  about  to  transpire.  Pablo  Artelan 
stepped  into  the  room. 

"Vamos!  Go!"  he  ordered,  curtly,  and  relieved  the 
astonished  butler  of  the  tray.  Murray  glanced  at  Don 
Miguel. 

"Perhaps  you'd  better  go,"  Don  Miguel  suggested, 
weakly.  "Pablo  is  a  trifle  jealous  of  the  job  of  waiting 
on  me.  We'll  iron  everything  out  in  the  morning. 
Good-night,  Murray.'* 

"Buenas  noclies,  mono  mio,"  Pablo  grunted. 

"I  have  a  slight  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  tongue, 
sir,"  Murray  protested.  "This  blackamoor  has  in 
sulted  me,  sir.  Just  now  he  said,  in  effect,  'Good 
night,  monkey  mine.'  Earlier  in  the  evening,  he  at 
tempted  to  murder  Mr.  Parker's  guest,  Mr.  Okada." 

"It's  a  pity  he  didn't  succeed,"  Don  Miguel  replied, 
and  drew  a  dollar  from  his  pocket.  "You  are  very 
kind,  Murray,  but  hereafter  I  shall  not  require  your 
attendance.  Pablo,  give  Murray  his  pistol." 

Pablo  returned  the  weapon. 

"She  ees  one  of  those  leetle  lady-pistols,  Don  Miguel. 
She  can't  kill  somebody  if  she  try,"  he  declared,  con 
temptuously.  Murray  pouched  the  dollar  gratefully 
and  beat  a  hurried  retreat. 

From  under  his  denim  jumper,  Pablo  brought  forth 
a  pint  of  claret. 

"When  the  damned  proheebeetion  she's  come,  you 
father  hee's  sell  fifty  cow  and  buy  plenty  booze,"  he 
explained.  He  broke  off  into  Spanish.  "This  wine, 
we  stored  in  the  old  bakery,  and  your  father  entrusted 
me  with  the  key.  It  is  true.  Although  it  is  not  lawful 
to  permit  one  of  my  blood  to  have  charge  of  wines  and 


92  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

liquors,  nevertheless,  your  sainted  father  reposed  great 
confidence  in  me.  Since  his  death,  I  have  not  touched 
one  drop,  although  I  was  beset  with  temptation,  seeing 
that  if  we  did  not  drink  it,  others  would.  But  Caro 
lina  would  have  none  of  it,  and,  as  you  know,  your 
father,  who  is  now,  beyond  doubt,  an  archangel,  was 
greatly  opposed  to  any  man  who  drank  alone.  How 
often  have  I  heard  him  declare  that  such  fellows  were 
not  of  the  gente!  And  Carolina  always  refused  to  be 
lieve  that  you  were  dead.  As  a  result,  the  years  will 
be  many  before  that  wine  is  finished." 

"My  good  Pablo,  your  great  faith  deserves  a  great 
reward.  It  is  my  wish  that,  to-night,  you  and  Caro 
lina  shall  drink  one  pint  each  to  my  health.  Have  you 
given  some  of  this  wine  to  the  Parkers  ?5' 

Pablo  shook  his  head  vigorously. 

"That  fellow,  El  Mono,  was  desirous  of  serving 
some  to  his  master,  and  demanded  of  me  the  key, 
which  I  refused.  Later,  Sefior  Parker  made  the  same 
demand.  Him  I  refused  also.  This  made  him  angry, 
and  he  ordered  me  to  depart  from  El  Palomar.  Natu 
rally,  I  told  him  to  go  to  the  devil.  Don  Miguel,  this 
gringo  grub  appears  to  be  better  than  I  had  imagined." 

Farrel  had  little  appetite  for  food,  but,  to  please 
Pablo,  he  drank  the  soup  and  toyed  with  a  piece  of 
toast  and  a  glass  of  wine  while  the  majordomo  related 
to  him  the  events  which  had  taken  place  at  El  Palomar 
since  that  never-to-be-forgotten  day  when  Tony  Mo 
reno  had  ridden  in  with  the  telegram  from  Wash 
ington. 

"Your  beloved  father — may  the  smile  of  Jesus  warm 
him! — said  nothing  when  he  read  this  accursed  mes- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  93 

sage,  Don  Miguel.  For  three  days,  he  tasted  no  food; 
throughout  the  days  he  sat  beside  me  on  the  bench 
under  the  catalpa  tree,  gazing  down  into  the  San  Gre- 
gorio  as  if  he  watched  for  you  to  ride  up  the  road. 
He  shed  no  tears — at  least,  not  in  the  presence  of  his 
servants — but  he  was  possessed  of  a  great  trembling. 
At  the  end  of  the  third  day,  I  rode  to  the  mission  and 
informed  Father  Dominic.  Ah,  Don  Miguel,  my  heart 
was  afflicted  tenfold  worse  than  before  to  see  that  holy 
man  weep  for  you.  When  he  had  wept  a  space,  he 
ordered  Father  Andreas  to  say  a  high  mass  for  the 
repose  of  your  soul,  while  he  came  up  to  the  hacienda 
to  remind  your  father  of  the  comforts  of  religion. 
Whereat,  for  the  first  time  since  that  vagabond  Mo 
reno  came  with  his  evil  tidings,  your  father  smiled, 
'Good  Father  Dominic,*  said  he,  'I  have  need  of  the 
comfort  of  your  presence  and  your  friendship,  but  I 
would  not  blot  out  with  thoughts  of  religion  the 
memory  of  the  honor  that  has  come  upon  my  house. 
God  has  been  good  to  me.  To  me  has  been  given  the 
privilege  of  siring  a  man,  and  I  shall  not  affront  him 
with  requests  for  further  favors.  To-morrow,  in  El 
Toro,  a  general  will  pin  on  my  breast  the  medal  for 
gallantry  that  belongs  to  my  dead  son.  As  for  this 
trembling,  it  is  but  a  palsy  that  comes  to  many  men 
of  my  age.' " 

"He  had  a  slight  touch  of  it  before  I  left,"  Don 
Miguel  reminded  Pablo. 

"The  following  day,'*  Pablo  continued,  "I  assisted 
him  to  dress,  and  was  overjoyed  to  observe  that  the 
trembling  had  abated  by  half.  By  his  direction,  I  sad 
dled  Panchito  with  the  black  carved-leather  saddle,  and 


94  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

he  mounted  with  my  aid  and  rode  to  El  Toro.  I  fol 
lowed  on  the  black  mare.  At  El  Toro,  in  the  plaza, 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  people,  a  great  general  shook 
your  father's  hand  and  pinned  upon  his  breast  the 
medal  that  belongs  to  you.  It  was  a  proud  moment  for 
all  of  us.  Then  we  rode  back  to  the  San  Gregorio. 
At  the  mission,  your  father  dismounted  and  went  into 
the  chapel  to  pray  for  your  soul.  For  two  hours,  I 
waited  before  entering  to  seek  him.  I  found  him  kneel 
ing  with  his  great  body  spread  out  over  the  prie-dieu 
where  the  heads  of  your  house  have  prayed  since  the 
Mission  de  la  Madre  Dolorosa  was  built.  His  brain 
was  alive,  but  one  side  of  him  was  dead,  and  he  smiled 
with  his  eyes.  We  carried  him  home  in  Father  Dom 
inic's  automobile,  and,  two  weeks  later,  he  died  in 
sanctity.  The  gente  of  San  Marcos  County  attended 
his  funeral. 

"In  February  came  Sefior  Parker,  with  great  assur 
ance,  and  endeavored  to  take  possession.  He  showed 
me  a  paper,  but  what  do  I  know  of  papers?  I  showed 
him  your  rifle,  and  he  departed,  to  return  with  Don 
Nicolas  Sandoval,  the  sheriff,  who  explained  matters 
to  me  and  warned  me  to  avoid  violence.  I  have  dwelt 
here  since  in  sorrow  and  perplexity,  and  because  I 
have  ridden  the  fences  and  watched  over  the  stock, 
there  has  been  no  great  effort  made  to  disturb  me. 
They  have  a  cook — a  Japanese,  and  two  Japanese 
women  servants.  Also,  this  evening,  Senor  Parker 
brought  with  him  as  a  guest  another  Japanese,  whom 
he  treats  with  as  much  consideration  as  if  the  fellow 
were  your  sainted  father.  I  do  not  understand  such 


LTHE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  95 

people.  This  Japanese  visitor  was  given  this  room, 
but  this  honor  I  denied  him." 

"My  father's  business  affairs  are  greatly  tangled, 
Pablo.  I  shall  have  quite  a  task  to  place  them  in 
order,"  Don  Miguel  informed  him,  sadly. 

"If  it  is  permitted  an  old  servant  to  appear  curious, 
Don  Miguel,  how  long  must  we  submit  to  the  presence 
of  these  strangers?" 

"For  the  present,  Pablo,  I  am  the  master  here; 
therefore,  these  people  are  my  guests.  It  has  never 
been  the  custom  with  my  people  to  be  discourteous  to 
guests." 

"I  shall  try  to  remember  that,"  Pablo  replied,  bit 
terly.  "Forgive  me,  Don  Miguel,  for  forgetting  it. 
Perhaps  I  have  not  played  well  my  part  as  the  repre 
sentative  of  my  master  during  his  absence." 

"Do  not  distress  yourself  further  in  the  matter, 
Pablo.  What  food  have  we  at  the  ranch?  Is  there 
sufficient  with  which  to  enable  Carolina  to  serve  break 
fast?" 

"To  serve  it  where,  Don  Miguel  ?n 

"Where  but  in  my  home?" 

"Blood  of  the  devil!"  Pablo  slapped  his  thigh  and 
grinned  in  the  knowledge  that  the  last  of  the  Farrels, 
having  come  home,  had  decided  to  waste  no  time  in 
assuming  his  natural  position  as  the  master  of  the 
Rancho  Palomar.  "We  have  oranges,"  he  began, 
enumerating  each  course  of  the  forthcoming  meal  on 
his  tobacco-stained  fingers.  "Then  there  is  flour  in 
my  possession  for  biscuits,  and,  two  weeks  ago,  I 
robbed  a  bee-tree ;  so  we  have  honey.  Our  coffee  is  not 
of  the  best,  but  it  is  coffee.  And  we  have  eggs." 


96  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Any  butter,  sugar,  and  cream?" 

"Alas,  no,  Don  Miguel !" 

"Saddle  a  horse  at  once,  go  down  to  the  mission, 
and  borrow  some  from  Father  Dominic.  If  he  has 
none,  ride  over  to  the  Gonzales  rancho  and  get  it. 
Bacon,  also,  if  they  have  it.  Tell  Carolina  I  will  have 
breakfast  for  five  at  half  after  eight. " 

"But  this  Japanese  cook  of  Senor  Parker's,  Don 
Miguel?" 

"I  am  not  in  a  mood  to  be  troubled  by  trifles  to 
night,  Pablo." 

"I  understand,  Don  Miguel.  The  matter  may 
safely  be  entrusted  to  me."  He  picked  up  the  tray. 
" Sweet  rest  to  you,  sir,  and  may  our  Saviour  grant  a 
quick  healing  to  your  bruised  heart.  Good-night." 

"Good-night,  Pablo."  Farrel  rose  and  laid  his  hand 
on  the  old  retainer's  shoulder.  "I  never  bothered  to 
tell  you  this  before,  Pablo,  but  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  do  appreciate  you  and  Carolina  tremendously. 
You've  stuck  to  me  and  mine,  and  you'll  always  have  a 
home  with  me." 

"Child,"  Pablo  queried,  huskily,  "must  we  leave  the 
rancho  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  we  must,  Pablo.  I  shall  know  more 
about  our  plans  after  I  have  talked  with  Senor 
Parker." 


THAT  night,  Miguel  Farrel  did  not  sleep  in  the  great 
bed  of  his  ancestors.  Instead,  he  lay  beneath  his 
grandmother's  silk  crazy-quilt  and  suffered.  The 
shock  incident  to  the  discovery  of  the  desperate  straits 
to  which  he  had  been  reduced  had,  seemingly,  deprived 
him  of  the  power  to  think  coherently.  Along  toward 
daylight,  however,  what  with  sheer  nervous  exhaus 
tion,  he  fell  into  a  troubled  doze  from  which  he  was 
awakened  at  seven  o'clock  by  the  entrance  of  Pablo, 
with  a  pitcher  of  hot  water  for  his  shaving. 

"Carolina  will  serve  breakfast,  Don  Miguel,"  he  an 
nounced.  "The  Japanese  cook  tried  to  throw  her  out 
of  the  kitchen;  so  I  have  locked  him  up  in  the  room 
where  of  old  I  was  wont  to  place  vaqueros  who  desired 
to  settle  their  quarrels  without  interference." 

"How  about  food,  Pablo?" 

"Unfortunately,  Father  Dominic  had  neither  sugar 
nor  cream.  It  appears  such  things  are  looked  upon 
at  the  mission  as  luxuries,  and  the  padres  have  taken 
the  vow  of  poverty.  He  could  furnish  nothing  save 
half  a  ham,  which  is  of  Brother  Flavio's  curing,  and 
very  excellent.  I  have  tasted  it  before.  I  was  forced 
to  ride  to  the  Gonzales  rancho  for  the  cream  and 
sugar  this  morning,  and  have  but  a  few  moments  ago 
returned." 

97 


98  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Having  deposited  the  pitcher  of  hot  water,  Pablo 
retired  and,  for  several  minutes,  Miguel  Farrel  lay 
abed,  gazing  at  the  row  of  portraits  of  Noriagas  and 
Farrels.  His  heart  was  heavy  enough  still,  but  the 
first  benumbing  shock  of  his  grief  and  desperation  had 
passed,  and  his  natural  courage  and  common  sense 
were  rapidly  coming  to  his  aid.  He  told  himself  that, 
with  the  dawning  of  the  new  day,  he  would  no  longer 
afford  the  luxury  of  self-pity,  of  vain  repining  for  the 
past.  He  had  to  be  up  and  doing,  for  a  man's-sized 
task  now  confronted  him.  He  had  approximately  seven 
months  in  which  to  rehabilitate  an  estate  which  his 
forebears  had  been  three  generations  in  dissipating, 
and  the  Gaelic  and  Celtic  blood  in  him  challenged  de 
feat  even  in  the  very  moment  when,  for  all  he  knew  to 
the  contrary,  his  worldly  assets  consisted  of  approxi 
mately  sixty  dollars,  the  bonus  given  him  by  the  gov 
ernment  when  parting  with  his  services. 

"I'll  not  give  up  without  a  battle,"  he  told  his  an 
cestors  aloud.  "You've  all  contributed  to  my  heavy 
load,  but  while  the  pack-straps  hold  and  I  can  stand 
and  see,  I'll  carry  it.  I'll  fight  this  man  Parker  up  to 
the  moment  he  hands  the  county  recorder  the  commis 
sioner's  deed  and  the  Rancho  Palomar  has  slipped  out 
of  my  hands  forever.  But  I'll  fight  fair.  That  splen 
did  girl — ah,  pooh!  Why  am  I  thinking  of  her?" 

Disgusted  with  himself  for  having  entertained,  for 
a  fleeting  instant,  a  slight  sentimental  consideration  for 
the  daughter  of  his  enemy — for  as  such  he  now  re 
garded  this  man  who  planned  to  colonize  the  San  Gre- 
gorio  with  Japanese  farmers — he  got  out  of  bed  and 
under  the  cold  shower-bath  he  had  installed  in  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  99 

adjoining  room  years  before.  It,  together  with  the 
tub-bath  formerly  used  by  his  father,  was  the  only 
plumbing  in  the  hacienda,  and  Farrel  was  just  a  little 
bit  proud  of  it.  He  shaved,  donned  clean  linen  and 
an  old  dressing-gown,  and  from  his  closet  brought 
forth  a  pair  of  old  tan  riding-boots,  still  in  an  excel 
lent  state  of  repair.  From  his  army-kit  he  produced 
a  boot-brush  and  a  can  of  tan  polish,  and  fell  to  work, 
finding  in  the  accustomed  task  some  slight  surcease 
from  his  troubles. 

His  boots  polished  to  his  satisfaction,  he  selected 
from  the  stock  of  old  civilian  clothing  a  respectable 
riding-suit  of  English  whip-cord,  inspected  it  carefully 
for  spots,  and,  finding  none,  donned  it.  A  clean 
starched  chambray  shirt,  set  off  by  a  black-silk  Wind 
sor  tie,  completed  his  attire,  with  the  exception  of  a 
soft,  wide,  flat-brimmed  gray-beaver  hat,  and  stamped 
him  as  that  which  he  had  once  been  but  was  no  longer — • 
a  California  rancher  of  taste  and  means  somewhat  be 
yond  the  average. 

It  was  twenty-five  minutes  past  eight  when  he  con 
cluded  his  leisurely  toilet;  so  he  stepped  out  of  his 
room,  passed  round  two  sides  of  the  porched  patio, 
and  entered  the  dining-room.  The  long  dining-table, 
hewed  by  hand  from  fir  logs  by  the  first  of  the  Nori- 
agas,  had  its  rough  defects  of  manufacture  mercifully 
hidden  by  a  snow-white  cloth,  and  he  noted  with  satis 
faction  that  places  had  been  set  for  five  persons.  He 
hung  his  hat  on  a  wall-peg  and  waited  with  his  glance 
on  the  door. 

Promptly  at  eight-thirty,  Carolina,  smiling,  happy, 
resplendent  in  a  clean  starched  calico  dress  of  varie- 


100  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

gated  colors,  stepped  outside  the  door  and  rang  vig 
orously  a  dinner-bell  that  had  called  three  generations 
of  Noriagas  and  an  equal  number  of  generations 
of  Farrels  to  their  meals.  As  its  musical  notes  echoed 
through  the  dewy  patio,  Murray,  the  butler,  appeared 
from  the  kitchen.  At  sight  of  Farrel,  he  halted,  puz 
zled,  but  recognized  in  him  almost  instantly  the  soldier 
who  had  so  mysteriously  appeared  at  the  house  the 
night  before.  El  Mono  was  red  of  face  and  obviously 
controlling  with  difficulty  a  cosmic  cataclysm. 

"Sir,"  he  announced,  respectfully,  "that  Indian  of 
yours  has  announced  that  he  will  shoot  me  if  I  at 
tempt  to  serve  breakfast.** 

Farrel  grinned  wanly. 

"In  that  event,  Murray,"  he  replied,  "if  I  were  you, 
I  should  not  attempt  to  serve  breakfast.  You  might 
be  interested  to  know  that  I  am  now  master  here  and 
that,  for  the  present,  my  own  servants  will  minister 
to  the  appetites  of  my  guests.  Thank  you  for  your 
desire  to  serve,  but,  for  the  present,  you  will  not  be 
needed  here.  If  you  will  kindly  step  into  the  kitchen, 
Carolina  will  later  serve  breakfast  to  you  and  the 
maids." 

"I'm  quite  certain  IVe  never  heard  of  anything  so 
extraordinary,"  Murray  murmured.  "Mrs.  Parker  is 
not  accustomed  to  being  summoned  to  breakfast  with  a 
bell." 

"Indeed?  I'm  glad  you  mentioned  that,  Murray. 
Perhaps  you  would  be  good  enough  to  oblige  me  by 
announcing  breakfast  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker,  Miss 
Parker,  and  their  guest,  Mr.  Okada." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  101 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Murray  murmured,  and  departed 
on  his  errand. 

The  first  to  respond  to  the  summons  was  Kay.  She 
was  resplendent  in  a  stunning  wash-dress  and,  evi 
dently,  was  not  prepared  for  the  sight  of  Farrel  stand 
ing  with  his  back  to  the  black  adobe  fireplace.  She 
paused  abruptly  and  stared  at  him  frankly.  He  bowed. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Parker.  I  trust  that,  despite 
the  excitement  of  the  early  part  of  the  night,  you  have 
enjoyed  a  very  good  rest." 

"Good-morning,  Don  Miguel.  Yes;  I  managed 
rather  well  with  my  sleep,  all  things  considered." 

"You  mustn't  call  me  'Don  Miguel,'  "  he  reminded 
her,  with  a  faint  smile.  "I  am  only  Don  Miguel  to  the 
Indians  and  pelados  and  a  few  of  my  father's  old 
^Spanish  friends  who  are  sticklers  for  etiquette.  My 
father  was  one  of  the  last  dons  in  San  Marcos  County, 
and  the  title  fitted  him  because  he  belonged  to  the 
generation  of  dons.  If  you  call  me  'Don  Miguel,'  I 
shall  feel  a  little  bit  alien." 

"Well,  I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Farrel.  You  are  too 
young  and  modern  for  such  an  antiquated  title.  I 
like  'Don  Mike'  better." 

"There  is  no  further  need  for  that  distinguishing 
appellation,"  he  reminded  her,  "since  my  father's 
death." 

She  looked  at  him  for  several  seconds  and  said: 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you've  gotten  a  firm  grip  on  your 
self  so  soon.  That  will  make  it  ever  so  much  nicer  for 
everybody  concerned.  Mother  and  father  are  fearfully 
embarrassed." 


102  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I  shall  endeavor  to  relieve  them  of  their  embarrass 
ment  the  instant  I  meet  them." 

"Here  they  come  now,"  Kay  warned,  and  glanced 
at  him  appealingly. 

Her  mother  entered  first,  followed  by  the  potato 
baron,  with  Parker  bringing  up  the  rear.  Mrs.  Par 
ker's  handsome  face  was  suffused  with  confusion,  and, 
from  the  hesitant  manner  in  which  she  entered,  Farrel 
realized  she  was  facing  an  ordeal. 

"Mother,  this  is  Mr.  Miguel  Farrel,"  Kay  an 
nounced. 

"You  are  welcome  to  my  poor  house,  Mrs.  Parker," 
Farrel  informed  her,  gravely,  as  he  crossed  the  room 
and  bent  over  her  hand  for  a  moment,  releasing  it  to 
grasp  the  reluctant  hand  of  her  husband.  "A  double 
welcome,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  Kay's  father,  who 
mumbled  something  in  reply  and  introduced  him  to  the 
potato  baron,  who  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"Won't  you  please  be  seated?"  Farrel  pleaded.  He 
gently  steered  Kay's  mother  to  the  seat  on  his  right, 
and  tucked  her  chair  in  under  her,  while  Parker  per 
formed  a  similar  service  for  his  daughter.  With  the 
assurance  of  one  whose  right  to  do  was  unquestioned, 
Farrel  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table  and 
reached  for  the  little  silver  call-bell  beside  his  plate, 
while  Parker  took  an  unaccustomed  seat  opposite  the 
potato  baron. 

"Considering  the  distressing  circumstances  under 
which  I  arrived,"  Farrel  observed,  addressing  himself 
rest  of  the  company,  "I  find  myself  rather  happy  in  the 
to  Mrs.  Parker,  and  then,  with  a  glance,  including  the 
possession  of  unexpected  company.  The  situation  is 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  103 

delightfully  unique — don't  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Parker?" 

"It  isn't  the  least  bit  delightful,  Mr.  Farrel,"  the 
lady  declared  frankly  and  forcibly;  "but  it's  dear  of 
you  to  be  so  nice  about  it." 

Mr.  Parker's  momentary  embarrassment  had  passed, 
and  with  the  feeling  that  his  silence  was  a  trifle  dis 
concerting,  he  rallied  to  meet  Miguel  Farrel's  attempt 
at  gaiety. 

"Well,  Mr.  Farrel,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  unique  posi 
tion,  as  you  say.  Kay  informs  me,  however,  that  you 
are  conversant  with  the  circumstances  that  have  con 
spired  to  make  us  your  guests." 

"Pray  do  not  mention  it.  Under  the  peculiar  condi 
tions  existing,  I  quite  realize  that  you  followed  the  only 
logical  and  sensible  course." 

Mrs.  Parker  heaved  a  small  sigh  of  relief  and  gazed 
upon  Farrel  with  new  interest.  He  returned  her  gaze 
with  one  faintly  quizzical,  whereat,  emboldened,  she 
demanded, 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  us  for  a  jolly  little 
band  of  usurpers,  Mr.  Farrel?" 

"Why,  I  think  I'm  going  to  like  you  all  very  much 
if  you'll  give  me  half  a  chance." 

"I'd  give  you  almost  anything  rather  than  be  kicked 
out  of  this  house,"  she  replied,  in  her  somewhat  loud, 
high-pitched  voice.  "I  love  it,  and  I  think  it's  almost 
sinful  on  your  part  to  have  bobbed  up  so  unexpect 
edly.'* 

"Mother!"  Kay  cried  reproachfully. 

"Tut,  tut,  Kay,  dear  I  When  an  obnoxious  heir  is 
reported  dead,  he  should  have  the  decency  to  stay  dead, 
although,  now  that  our  particular  nuisance  is  here, 


104  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

alive  and  well,  I  suppose  we  ought  to  let  bygones  be 
bygones  and  be  nice  to  him — provided,  of  course,  he 
continues  to  be  nice  to  us.  Are  you  inclined  to  declare 
war,  Mr.  Farrel?" 

"Not  until  every  diplomatic  course  has  been  tried 
and  found  wanting,"  he  replied. 

Carolina  entered,  bearing  five  portions  of  sliced 
oranges. 

"O  Lord,  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive 
those  who  trespass  against  us,"  Mrs.  Parker  cried. 
"Where  is  Murray?" 

Farrel  glanced  down  at  his  oranges  and  grinned. 

"Pm  afraid  I  excused  Murray,"  he  confessed. 

Mrs.  Parker  burst  into  shrill  laughter. 

"John,"  she  demanded  of  her  husband.,  "what  do  you 
think  of  this  young  man?" 

"Pick  up  the  marbles,  Mr.  Farrel,"  Parker  replied, 
with  poorly  assumed  good  humor.  "You  win." 

"I  think  this  is  a  jolly  adventure,"  Kay  struck  in, 
quick  to  note  the  advantage  of  her  outspoken  mother's 
course.  "Here  you  have  been  more  than  two  months, 
mother,  regarding  yourself  as  the  mistress  of  the 
Rancho  Palomar,  retinting  rooms,  putting  in  modern 
plumbing,  and  cluttering  up  the  place  with  a  butler 
and  maids,  when — presto ! — overnight  a  stranger  walks 
in  and  says  kindly,  'Welcome  to  my  poor  house !'  After 
which,  he  appropriates  pa's  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  rings  in  his  own  cook  and  waitress,  forces  his 
own  food  on  us,  and  makes  us  like  it.  Young  man,  I 
greatly  fear  we're  going  to  grow  fond  of  you." 

"You  had  planned  to  spend  the  summer  here,  had 
you  not,  Mrs.  Parker?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  105 

"Yes.  John  Parker,  have  you  any  idea  what's  going 
to  become  of  us?" 

"We'll  go  to  Santa  Barbara  and  take  rooms  at  a 
hotel  there  for  the  present,"  he  informed  her. 

"I  loathe  hotels,"  she  protested. 

"I  think  I  informed  you,  Mrs.  Parker,  that  you  are 
welcome  to  my  poor  house,"  Farrel  reminded  her.  "I 
shall  be  happy  to  have  you  remain  here  until  I  go 
away.  After  that,  of  course,  you  can  continue  to  stay 
on  without  any  invitation  from  me." 

Parker  spoke  up. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Farrel,  that  is  charming  of  you! 
Indeed,  from  all  that  we  have  heard  of  you,  it  is  ex 
actly  the  course  we  might  expect  you  to  take.  Never 
theless,  we  shall  not  accept  of  your  kindness.  Now 
that  you  are  here,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  im 
pose  the  presence  of  my  family  and  myself  upon  your 
hospitality,  even  if  the  court  has  given  me  the  right 
to  enter  upon  this  property.  I  am  confident  you  are 
competent  to  manage  the  ranch  until  I  am  eliminated 
or  come  into  final  possession." 

"John,  don't  be  a  nut,"  his  wife  implored  him. 
"We'll  stay  here.  Yes,  we  shall,  John.  Mr.  Farrel 
has  asked  us  in  good  faith.  You  weren't  trying  to  be 
polite  just  to  put  us  at  our  ease,  were  you?"  she  de 
manded,  turning  to  Farrel. 

"Certainly  not,  Mrs.  Parker.  Of  course,  I  shall  do 
my  level  best  to  acquire  the  legal  right  to  dispossess 
you  before  Mr.  Parker  acquires  a  similar  right  to  dis 
possess  me,  but,  in  the  interim,  I  announce  an  armi 
stice.  All  those  in  favor  of  the  motion  will  signify  by 
saying  'Aye.* " 


106  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Aye!"  cried  Kay,  and  "Ayef  shrilled  her  mother. 

"No  !"  roared  her  husband. 

"Excess  of  sound  has  no  weight  with  me,  Mr. 
Parker,"  their  host  announced.  "The  'ayes*  have  it, 
and  it  is  so  ordered.  I  will  now  submit  a  platform  for 
the  approval  of  the  delegates.  Having  established  my 
self  as  host  and  won  recognition  as  such,  the  following 
rules  and  regulations  will  govern  the  convention." 

"Hear !  Hear !"  cried  Mrs.  Parker,  and  tapped  the 
table  with  her  spoon. 

"The  rapid  ringing  of  a  bell  will  be  the  signal  for 
meals." 

"Approved!"  cried  Kay. 

"Second  the  motion!"  shrilled  her  mother. 

"My  cook,  Carolina,  is  queen  of  the  kitchen,  and 
Spanish  cuisine  will  prevail.  When  you  weary  of  it, 
serve  notice,  and  your  Japanese  cook  will  be  permitted 
to  vary  the  monotony." 

"Great !"  Mrs.  Parker  almost  yelled.  "Right  as  a 
fox!" 

"Murray  shall  serve  meals,  and " 

Pablo  appeared  in  the  door  leading  to  the  kitchen 
and  spoke  to  Farrel  in  Spanish. 

"Pardon,  folks.  Pablo  has  a  telegram  for  me.  Bring 
it  here,  Pablo." 

The  master  of  Palomar  excused  himself  to  his  guests 
long  enough  to  read  the  telegram,  and  then  continued 
the  announcement  of  his  platform. 

"My  old  battery  commander,  to  whom  I  had  prom 
ised  Panchito,  wires  me  that,  for  his  sins,  he  has  been 
made  a  major  and  ordered  to  the  Army  of  Occupation 
on  the  Rhine.  Therefore,  he  cannot  use  Panchito,  and 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  107 

forbids  me  to  express  the  horse  to  him.  Consequently, 
Miss  Parker,  Panchito  is  almost  yours.  Consider  him 
your  property  while  you  remain  my  guest." 

"You  darling  Don  Miguel  Farrel !" 

"Exuberant,  my  dear,"  her  curious  mother  re 
marked,  dryly,  "but,  on  the  whole,  the  point  is  well 
taken."  She  turned  to  Farrel.  "How  about  some  sort 
of  nag  for  mother?" 

"You  may  ride  my  father's  horse,  if  that  animal  is 
still  on  the  ranch,  Mrs.  Parker.  He's  a  beautiful 
single-footer."  He  addressed  Parker.  "We  used  to 
have  a  big  gray  gelding  that  you'd  enjoy  riding,  sir. 
I'll  look  him  up  for  you  after  breakfast." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Farrel,"  Parker  replied,  flushing 
slightly,  "I've  been  riding  him  already." 

"Fine !  He  needed  exercising.  I  have  a  brown  mare 
for  Mr.  Okada,  and  you  are  all  invited  out  to  the  corral 
after  luncheon  to  see  me  bust  Panchito's  wild  young 
brother  for  my  own  use." 

"Oh,  splendid!"  Kay  cried,  enthusiastically. 

"The  day  starts  more  auspiciously  than  I  had 
hoped,"  her  mother  declared.  "I  really  believe  the 
Rancho  Palomar  is  going  to  develop  into  a  regular 
place  with  you  around,  Mr.  Farrel." 


XI 

I  AM  convinced, "  said  Miguel  Farrel,  as  he  followed 
his  guests  out  of  the  dining-room  onto  the  ver 
anda,  "that  the  Parkers'  invasion  of  my  home  is  some 
thing  in  the  nature  of  a  mixed  misfortune.     I  begin  to 
feel  that  my  cloud  has  a  silver  lining." 

"Of  all  the  young  men  I  have  ever  met,  you  can  say 
the  nicest  things,"  Mrs.  Parker  declared.  "I  don't 
think  you  mean  that  last  remark  the  least  bit,  but  still 
I'm  silly  enough  to  like  to  hear  you  say  it.  Do  sit 
down  here  awhile,  Mr.  Farrel,  and  tell  us  all  about 
yourself  and  family. " 

"At  the  risk  of  appearing  discourteous,  Mrs. 
Parker,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  excuse  me  this 
morning.  I  have  a  living  to  make.  It  is  now  a  quarter 
past  nine,  and  I  should  have  been  on  the  job  at  seven." 

"But  you  only  got  home  from  the  army  last  night," 
Kay  pleaded.  "You  owe  yourself  a  little  rest,  do  you 
not?" 

"Not  a  minute.  I  must  not  owe  anything  I  cannot 
afford.  I  have  approximately  seven  months  in  whi0h 
to  raise  approximately  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars. 
Since  I  am  without  assets,  I  have  no  credit ;  conse 
quently,  I  must  work  for  that  money.  From  to-day  I 
am  Little  Mike,  the  Hustler." 

"What's  your  program,  Mr.  Farrel?"  Parker  in 
quired,  with  interest. 

108 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  109 

"I  should  be  grateful  for  an  interview  with  you,  sir, 
if  you  can  spare  the  time.  Later,  I  shall  ride  out  over 
the  ranch  and  make  an  inventory  of  the  stock.  To 
morrow,  I  shall  go  in  to  El  Toro,  see  my  father's  at 
torney,  ascertain  if  father  left  a  will,  and,  if  so,  whom 
he  named  as  executor.  If  he  died  intestate,  I  shall  pe 
tition  for  letters  of  administration." 

"Come,  Kay,  dear,"  Mrs.  Parker  announced ;  "heavy 
business-man  stuff!  I  can't  bear  it!  Will  you  take 
a  walk  with  us,  Mr.  Okada  ?" 

"Very  much  pleased,"  the  potato  baron  replied,  and 
flashed  his  fine  teeth  in  a  fatuous  grin. 

Farrel  smiled  his  thanks  as  the  good  lady  moved  off 
with  her  convoy.  Parker  indicated  a  chair  and  prof 
fered  a  cigar. 

"Now  then,  Mr.  Farrel,  I  am  quite  at  your  service." 

Miguel  Farrel  lighted  his  cigar  and  thoughtfully 
tossed  the  burnt  match  into  a  bed  of  pansies.  Evi 
dently,  he  was  formulating  his  queries. 

"What  was  the  exact  sum  for  which  the  mortgage 
on  this  ranch  was  foreclosed,  Mr.  Parker?" 

"Two  hundred  and  eighty-three  thousand,  nine  hun 
dred  and  forty-one  dollars,  and  eight  cents,  Mr. 
Farrel." 

"A  sizable  wad.  Mortgage  covered  the  entire 
ranch?" 

Parker  nodded. 

"When  you  secured  control  of  the  First  National 
Bank  of  El  Toro,  you  found  that  old  mortgage  carried 
in  its  list  of  assets.  You  also  discovered  that  it  had 
been  renewed  several  times,  each  time  for  a  larger  sum, 
from  which  you  deduced  that  the  prospects  for  the 


110  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ultimate  payment  of  the  mortgage  were  nebulous  and 
distant.  Your  hypothesis  was  correct.  The  Farrels 
never  did  to-day  a  task  that  could  be  deferred  until 
to-morrow.  Well,  you  went  out  and  looked  over  the 
security  for  that  mortgage.  You  found  it  to  be 
ample — about  three  to  one,  as  a  very  conservative  ap 
praisal.  You  discovered  that  all  of  the  stockholders 
in  the  First  National  were  old  friends  of  my  father 
and  extremely  reluctant  to  foreclose  on  him.  As  a 
newcomer,  you  preferred  not  to  antagonize  your  asso 
ciates  by  forcing  the  issue  upon  them,  so  you  waited 
until  the  annual  election  of  stockholders,  when  you 
elected  your  own  Board  of  Directors.  Then  this  Board 
of  Directors  sold  you  the  mortgage,  and  you  promptly 
foreclosed  it.  The  shock  of  this  unexpected  move  was 
a  severe  one  on  my  father;  the  erroneous  report  of  my 
death  killed  him,  and  here  you  are,  where  you  have 
every  legal  right  in  the  world  to  be.  We  were  never 
entitled  to  pity,  never  entitled  to  the  half-century  of 
courtesy  and  consideration  we  received  from  the  bank. 
We  met  the  fate  that  is  bound  to  overtake  impractical 
dreamers  and  non-hustlers  in  this  generation.  The 
Mission  Indian  disappeared  before  the  onslaught  of 
the  earlier  Californians,  and  the  old-time  Californians 
have  had  to  take  a  back  seat  before  the  onslaught  of 
the  Go-get-'em  boys  from  the  Middle  West  and  the 
East.  Presently  they,  too,  will  disappear  before  the 
hordes  of  Japanese  that  are  invading  our  state.  Per 
haps  that  is  progress — the  survival  of  the  fittest. 
Quien  sabe?" 

He  paused  and  smoked  contemplatively.   Parker  cast 
a  sidelong  glance  of  curiosity  at  him,  but  said  nothing, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  111 

by  his  silence  giving  assent  to  all  that  the  younger  man 
had  said. 

"I  suppose  you  wanted  the  Rancho  Palomar,"  Mig 
uel  Farrel  suggested,  presently.  "I  dare  say  your 
purchase  of  this  mortgage  was  not  the  mere  outgrowth 
of  an  altruistic  desire  to  relieve  the  First  National 
Bank  of  El  Toro  of  an  annoyance  and  a  burden." 

"I  think  I  admire  your  direct  way  of  speaking,  even 
if  I  hardly  relish  it,"  Parker  answered,  good-humor- 
edly.  "Yes;  I  wanted  the  ranch.  I  realized  I  could 
do  things  with  it  that  nobody  else  in  this  county  could 
do  or  would  even  think  of  doing." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.  For  the  sake  of  argument, 
I  will  admit  that  you  are  right.  Now  then,  to  business. 
This  ranch  is  worth  a  million  dollars,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  exemption  period  your  claim  against  it  will 
probably  amount  to  approximately  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  principal  and  interest.  If  I  can  in 
duce  somebody  to  loan  me  three  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  wherewith  to  redeem  this  property,  I  can  get  the 
ranch  back." 

"Naturally." 

"Not  much  use  getting  it  back,  however,  unless  I  can 
raise  another  hundred  thousand  to  restock  it  with  pure 
bred  or  good-grade  Herefords  and  purchase  modern 
equipment  to  operate  it."  Parker  nodded  approv 
ingly.  "Otherwise,"  Farrel  continued,  "the  interest 
would  eat  me  alive,  and  in  a  few  years  I'd  be  back 
where  I  started." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  borrow  four  hundred  thous 
and  dollars  in  San  Marcos  County,  Mr.  Farrel?" 

"No,  sir.    No  private  loan  of  that  magnitude  can  be 


112  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

floated  in  this  country.  You  control  the  only  bank  in 
the  county  that  can  even  consider  it — and  you'll  not 
consider  it." 

"Hardly." 

"Added  to  which  handicap,  I  have  no  additional  se 
curity  to  offer  in  the  shape  of  previous  reputation  for 
ability  and  industry.  I  am  the  last  of  a  long  line  of 
indolent,  care-free  spendthrifts." 

"Yes ;  that  is  unfortunately  true,"  Parker  assented, 
gravely. 

"Oh,  not  so  unfortunate  as  it  is  embarrassing  and 
inconvenient.  We  have  always  enjoyed  life  to  the 
fullest,  and,  for  that,  only  a  fool  would  have  regret. 
Would  you  be  willing  to  file  a  satisfaction  of  that  old 
mortgage  and  give  me  a  new  loan  for  five  years  for  the 
amount  now  due  on  the  property?  I  could  induce  one 
of  the  big  packing  companies  to  stake  me  to  the  cattle. 
All  I  would  have  to  provide  would  be  the  range,  and 
satisfy  them  that  I  am  honest  and  know  my  business. 
And  I  can  do  that.  Such  an  arrangement  would  give 
me  time  to  negotiate  a  sale  of  part  of  the  ranch  and 
pay  up  your  mortgage." 

"I  am  afraid  that  my  present  plans  preclude  consid 
eration  of  that  suggestion,"  the  banker  replied,  kindly, 
but  none  the  less  forcibly. 

"I  didn't  think  you  would,  but  I  thought  I'd  ask. 
As  a  general  rule,  it  pays  to  try  anything  once  when 
a  fellow  is  in  as  desperate  case  as  I  am.  My  only 
hope,  then,  is  that  I  may  be  able  to  sell  the  Farrel 
equity  in  the  ranch  prior  to  the  twenty-second  day  of 
November." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  113 

"That  would  seem  to  be  your  best  course,  Mr. 
Farrel." 

"When  does  the  redemption  period  expire?" 

Parker  squirmed  slightly. 

"That  is  a  difficult  question  to  answer,  Mr.  Farrel. 
It  seems  your  father  was  something  of  a  lawyer " 

"Yes ;  he  graduated  in  law.  Why,  nobody  ever  knew, 
for  he  never  had  the  slightest  intention  of  practising 
it.  I  believe  it  must  have  been  because  my  grandfather, 
Michael  Joseph  I,  had  an  idea  that,  since  his  son  was 
a  gentleman,  he  ought  to  have  a  college  degree  and  the 
right  to  follow  some  genteel  profession  in  case  of  dis 
aster." 

"Your  father  evidently  kept  abreast  of  the  law," 
Parker  laughed.  "Before  entering  suit  for  foreclosure, 
I  notified  him  by  registered  mail  that  the  mortgage 
would  not  be  renewed  and  made  formal  demand  upon 
him  for  payment  in  full.  When  he  received  the  notice 
from  the  El  Toro  postmaster  to  call  for  that  regis 
tered  letter,  he  must  have  suspected  its  contents,  for 
he  immediately  deeded  the  ranch  to  you  and  then 
called  for  the  registered  letter." 

Farrel  began  to  chuckle. 

"Good  old  dad!"  he  cried.  "Put  over  a  dirty  Irish 
trick  on  you  to  gain  time !" 

"He  did.  I  do  not  blame  him  for  it.  I  would  have 
done  the  same  thing  myself  under  the  same  circum 
stances."  And  Parker  had  the  grace  to  join  in  the 
laugh.  "WTien  I  filed  suit  for  foreclosure,"  he  con 
tinued,  "he  appeared  in  court  and  testified  that  the 
property  belonged  to  his  son,  who  was  in  the  military 
service,  in  consequence  of  which  the  suit  for  foreclosure 


114  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

could  not  be  pressed  until  after  said  son's  discharge 
from  the  service." 

"All  praise  to  the  power  of  the  war-time  mora 
toriums,"  Farrel  declared.  "I  suppose  you  re-entered 
the  suit  as  soon  as  the  report  of  my  death  reached  you." 

Parker  chuckled. 

"I  did,  Mr.  Farrel,  and  secured  a  judgment.  Then  I 
took  possession." 

"Aren't  you  the  picture  of  bad  luck?  Just  when 
everything  is  shaping  up  beautifully  for  you,  I  appear 
in  the  flesh  as  exhibit  A  in  the  contention  that  your 
second  judgment  will  now  have  to  be  set  aside,  because, 
at  the  time  it  was  entered,  it  conflicted  with  the  pro 
visions  of  that  blessed  moratorium."  Don  Miguel 
smiled  mirthlessly. 

"There's  luck  in  odd  numbers,"  Parker  retorted, 
dryly.  "The  next  time  I  shall  make  that  judgment 
stick." 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  all  these  false  starts  help  me 
out  wonderfully,"  Don  Miguel  reminded  him.  "As 
matters  stand  this  morning,  the  mortgage  hasn't  been 
foreclosed  at  all ;  consequently,  you  are  really  and  truly 
my  guests  and  doubly  welcome  to  my  poor  house." 
He  rose  and  stretched  himself,  gazing  down  the  while 
at  Parker,  who  regarded  him  quizzically.  "Than!:  you 
for  the  interview,  Mr.  Parker.  I  imagine  we've  had 
our  first  and  last  business  discussion.  When  you  are 
ready  to  enter  your  third  suit  for  foreclosure,  I'll 
drop  round  to  your  attorney's  office,  accept  service 
of  the  summons,  appear  in  court,  and  confess  judg 
ment."  Fell  a  silence.  Then,  "Do  you  enjoy  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  115 

study  of  people,  sir?"  Don  Miguel  demanded,  apropos 
of  nothing. 

"Not  particularly,  Mr.  Farrel.  Of  course,  I  try  to 
know  the  man  I'm  doing  business  with,  and  I  study  him 
accordingly,  but  that  is  all." 

"I  have  not  made  myself  explicit,"  his  host  replied. 
"The  racial  impulses  which  I  observed  cropping  out 
in  my  father — first  Irish,  then  Spanish — and  a  similar 
observance  of  the  mixed  impulses  of  the  peons  of  this 
country,  all  of  whom  are  Indian,  with  a  faint  admix 
ture  of  Spanish  blood — always  interested  me.  I  agree 
with  Pope  that  'the  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man.' 
I  find  it  most  interesting." 

"For  instance?"  Parker  queried.  He  had  a  feeling 
that  in  any  conversation  other  than  business  which  he 
might  indulge  in  with  this  young  man  he  would  speedily 
find  himself,  as  it  were,  in  deep  water  close  to  the  shore. 

"I  was  thinking  of  my  father.  In  looking  through 
his  effects  last  night,  I  came  across  indubitable  evidence 
of  his  Celtic  blood.  Following  the  futile  pursuit  of  an 
enemy  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  he  died  and  left  the 
unfinished  job  to  roe.  Had  he  been  all  Spanish,  he 
would  have  wearied  of  the  pursuit  a  decade  ago." 

"I  think  every  race  has  some  definite  characteristics 
necessary  to  the  unity  of  that  race,"  Parker  replied, 
with  interest.  "Hate  makes  the  Irish  cohesive;  pride 
or  arrogance  prevents  the  sun  from  setting  on  British 
territory;  a  passionate  devotion  to  the  soil  has  solidi 
fied  the  French  republic  in  all  its  wars,  while  a  blind 
submission  to  an  overlord  made  Germany  invincible  in 
peace  and  terrible  in  war." 

"I  wonder  what  spiritual  binder  holds  the  people  of 


116  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  United  States  together,  Mr.  Parker?"  Don  Miguel 
queried  naively. 

"Love  of  country,  devotion  to  the  ideals  of  liberty 
and  democracy,"  Parker  replied  promptly,  just  as  his 
daughter  joined  them. 

Farrel  rose  and  surrendered  to  her  his  chair,  then 
seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  with  his  legs 
dangling  over  into  a  flower-bed.  His  face  was  grave, 
but  in  his  black  eyes  there  lurked  the  glint  of  polite 
contempt. 

"Did  you  hear  the  question  and  the  answer,  Miss 
Parker?"  he  queried. 

She  nodded  brightly. 

"Do  you  agree"  with  your  father's  premise?"  he  pur 
sued. 

"Yes,  I  do,  Don  Mike." 

"I  do  not.  The  mucilage  in  our  body  politic  is  the 
press-agent,  the  advertising  specialist,  and  astute  pro 
pagandist.  I  wonder  if  you  know  that,  when  we  de 
clared  war  against  Germany,  the  reason  was  not  to 
make  the  world  safe  for  democracy,  for  there  are  only 
two  real  reasons  why  wars  are  fought.  One  is  greed 
and  the  other  self-protection.  Thank  God,  we  have 
never  been  greedy  or  jealous  of  the  prosperity  of  a 
neighbor.  National  aggrandizement  is  not  one  of  our 
ambitions." 

Kay  stared  at  him  in  frank  amazement. 

"Then  you  mean  that  we  entered  the  late  war  purely 
as  a  protective  measure?" 

"That's  why  I  enlisted.  As  an  American  citizen,  I 
was  unutterably  weary  of  having  our  hand  crowded  and 
our  elbow  joggled.  I  saw  very  clearly  that,  unless  we 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  117 

interfered,  Germany  was  going  to  dominate  the 
world,  which  would  make  it  very  uncomfortable  and 
expensive  for  us.  I  repeat  that  for  the  protection 
of  our  comfort  and  our  bank-roll  we  declared  war,  and 
anybody  who  tells  you  otherwise  isn't  doing  his  own 
thinking,  he  isn't  honest  with  himself,  and  he's  the  sort 
of  citizen  who  is  letting  the  country  go  to  the  dogs  be 
cause  he  refuses  to  take  an  intelligent  interest  in  its 
affairs." 

"What  a  perfectly  amazing  speech  from  an  ex- 
soldier!"  Kay  protested. 

He  smiled  his  sad,  prescient  smile. 

"Soldiers  deal  with  events,  not  theories.  They 
learn  to  call  a  spade  a  spade,  Miss  Parker.  I  repeat: 
It  wasn't  a  war  to  make  the  world  safe  for  democracy. 
That  phrase  was  just  a  slogan  in  a  business  campaign 
— the  selling  of  stock  in  a  military  enterprise  to 
apathetic  Americans.  We  had  to  fight  or  be  overrun ; 
when  we  realized  that,  we  fought.  Are  not  the  present 
antics  of  the  Supreme  Council  in  Paris  sufficient  proof 
that  saving  democracy  was  just  another  shibboleth? 
Is  not  a  ghastly  war  to  be  followed  by  a  ghastly 
peace?  The  press-agents  and  orators  popularized  the 
war  with  the  unthinking  and  the  hesitant,  which  is 
proof  enough  to  me  that  we  lack  national  unity  and  a 
definite  national  policy.  We're  a  lot  of  sublimated 
jackasses,  sacrificing  our  country  to  ideals  that  are 
worn  at  elbow  and  down  at  heel.  'Other  times, 
other  customs.'  But  we  go  calmly  and  stupidly  on 
ward,  hugging  our  foolish  shibboleths  to  our  hearts, 
hiding  behind  them,  refusing  to  do  to-day  that  which  we 
can  put  off  until  to-morrow.  That  is  truly  an  Anglo- 


118  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Saxon  trait.  In  matters  of  secondary  importance,  we 
yield  a  ready  acquiescence  which  emboldens  our  ene 
mies  to  insist  upon  acquiescence  in  matters  of  primary 
importance.  And  quite  frequently  they  succeed.  I  tell 
you  the  Anglo-Saxon  peoples  are  the  only  ones  under 
heaven  that  possess  a  national  conscience,  and  because 
they  possess  it,  they  are  generous  enough  to  assume 
that  other  races  are  similarly  endowed." 

"I  believe,"  Parker  stuck  in,  as  Don  Miguel  ceased 
from  his  passionate  denunciation,  "that  all  this  is 
leading  quite  naturally  to  a  discussion  of  Japanese 
emigration." 

"I  admit  that  the  sight  of  Mr.  Okada  over  in  the 
corner  of  the  patio,  examining  with  interest  bhe  only 
sweet-lime  tree  in  North  America,  inspired  my  out 
burst,"  Farrel  answered  smilingly. 

"You  speak  of  our  national  shibboleths,  Don  Mike 
Farrel,"  Kay  reminded  him.  "If  you  please,  what 
might  they  be?" 

"You  will  recognize  them  instantly,  Miss  Parker. 
Let  us  start  with  our  Declaration  of  Independence: 
'All  men  are  created  equal/  Ah,  if  the  framers  of 
that  great  document  had  only  written,  'All  men  are 
created  theoretically  equal!'  For  all  men  are  not 
morally,  intellectually,  or  commercially  equal:  For 
instance,  Pablo  is  equal  with  me  before  the  law,  al 
though  I  hazard  the  guess  that  if  he  and  I  should  com 
mit  a  murder,  Pablo  would  be  hanged  and  I  would  be 
sentenced  to  life  imprisonment ;  eventually,  I  might  be 
pardoned  or  paroled.  Are  you  willing  to  admit  that 
Pablo  Artelan  is  not  my  equal?"  he  challenged  sud 
denly. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  119 

"Certainly!"  Kay  and  her  father  both  cried  in 
unison. 

"Very  well.     Is  Mr.  Okada  my  equal  ?" 

"He  is  Pablo's  superior,"  Parker  felt  impelled  to 
declare. 

"He  is  not  your  equal,"  Kay  declared  firmly.  "Dad, 
you're  begging  the  question." 

"We-11,  no,"  he  assented,  "Not  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  point  of  view.  He  is,  however,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  his  own  nationals." 

"Two  parallel  lines  continued  into  infinity  will  never 
meet,  Mr.  Parker.  I  am  a  believer  in  Asia  for  Asiatics, 
and,  in  Japan,  I  am  willing  to  accord  a  Jap  equality 
with  me.  In  my  own  country,  however,  I  would  deny 
him  citizenship,  by  any  right  whatsoever,  even  by  birth, 
I  would  deny  him  the  right  to  lease  or  own  land  for 
agricultural  or  other  purposes,  although  I  would  ac 
cord  him  office  and  warehouse  space  to  carry  on  legiti 
mate  commerce.  The  Jap  does  that  for  us  and  no 
more,  despite  his  assertions  to  the  contrary.  I  would 
deny  the  right  of  emigration  to  this  country  of  all 
Japanese,  with  certain  exceptions  necessary  to  friendly 
intercourse  between  the  two  countries;  I  would  deny 
him  the  privilege  of  economic  competition  and  marriage 
with  our  women.  When  a  member  of  the  great  Nordic 
race  fuses  with  a  member  of  a  pigmented  race,  both 
parties  to  the  union  violate  a  natural  law.  Pablo  is 
a  splendid  example  of  mongrelization." 

"You  are  forgetting  the  shibboleths,"  Kay  ventured 
to  remind  him. 

"No ;  I  am  merely  explaining  their'  detrimental  effect 
upon  our  development.  The  Japanese  are  an  exceed- 


120  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ingly  clever  and  resourceful  race.  Brilliant  psycholo 
gists  and  astute  diplomatists,  they  have  taken  advan 
tage  of  our  pet  shibboleth  to  the  effect  that  all  men  are 
equal.  Unfortunately,  we  propounded  this  monstrous 
and  half-baked  ideal  to  the  world,  and  a  sense  of  na 
tional  vanity  discourages  us  from  repudiating  it,  al 
though  we  really  ought  to.  And  as  I  remarked  before, 
we  possess  an  alert  national  conscience  in  international 
affairs,  while  the  Jap  possesses  none  except  in  certain 
instances  where  it  is  obvious  that  honesty  is  the  best 
policy.  I  think  I  am  justified,  however,  in  stating 
that,  upon  the  whole,  Japan  has  no  national  conscience 
in  international  affairs.  Her  brutal  exploitation  of 
China  and  her  merciless  and  bloody  conquest  of  Korea 
impel  that  point  of  view  from  an  Anglo-Saxon.  When, 
therefore,  the  Tokyo  government  says,  in  effect,  to  us : 
'For  one  hundred  and  forty-four  years  you  have  pro 
claimed  to  the  world  that  all  men  are  equal.  Very  well. 
Accept  us.  We  are  a  world-power.  We  are  on  a 
basis  of  equality  with  you/  and  we  lack  the  courage  to 
repudiate  this  pernicious  principle,  we  have  tacitly  ad 
mitted  their  equality.  That  is,  the  country  in  general 
has,  because  it  knows  nothing  of  the  Japanese  race — 
at  least  not  enough  for  moderately  practical  under 
standing  of  the  biological  and  economic  issues  involved. 
Indeed,  for  a  long  time,  we  Californians  dwelt  in  the 
same  fool's  paradise  as  the  remainder  of  the  states. 
Finally,  members  of  the  Japanese  race  became  so  nu 
merous  and  aggressive  here  that  we  couldn't  help  notic 
ing  them.  Then  we  began  to  study  them,  and  now, 
what  we  have  learned  amazes  and  frightens  us,  and  we 
want  the  sister  states  to  know  all  that  we  have  learned, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

in  order  that  they  may  cooperate  with  us.  But,  still, 
the  Jap  has  us  tiron  in  other  ways." 

"Has  us  what?"  Parker  interrupted. 

"Tiron.  Spanish  slang.  I  mean  he  has  us  where 
the  hair  is  short;  we're  hobbled." 

"How?"  Kay  demanded. 

His  bright  smile  was  triumphant. 

"By  shibboleths,  of  course.  My  friends,  we're  a 
race  of  sentimental  idiots,  and  the  Japanese  know  this 
and  capitalize  it.  We  have  promulgated  other  fool 
shibboleths  which  we  are  too  proud  or  too  stupid  to 
repudiate.  'America,  the  refuge  for  all  the  oppressed 
of  the  earth !'  Ever  hear  that  perfectly  damnable  shib 
boleth  shouted  by  a  Fourth  of  July  orator?  'America, 
the  hope  of  the  world!'  What  kind  of  hope?  Hope 
of  freedom,  social  and  political  equality,  equality  of 
opportunity?  Nonsense!  Hope  of  more  money, 
shorter  hours,  and  license  misnamed  liberty ;  and  when 
that  hope  has  been  fulfilled,  back  they  go  to  the  coun 
tries  that  denied  them  all  that  we  give.  How  many 
of  them  feel,  when  they  land  at  Ellis  Island,  that  the 
ground  whereon  they  tread  is  holy,  sanctified  by  the 
blood  and  tears  of  a  handful  of  great,  brave  souls  who 
really  had  an  ideal  and  died  for  it.  Mighty  few  of  the 
cattle  realize  what  that  hope  is,  even  in  the  second  gen 
eration." 

"I  fear,"  quoth  Parker,  "that  your  army  experience 
has  embittered  you." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  has  broadened  and  developed 
me.  It  has  been  a  liberal  education,  and  it  has 
strengthened  my  love  for  my  country." 

"Continue  with  the  shibboleths,   Don   Mike,"  Kay 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

pleaded.  Her  big,  brown  eyes  were  alert  with  in 
terest  now. 

"Well,  when  Israel  Zangwill  coined  that  phrase: 
'The  Melting-Pot,'  the  title  to  his  play  caught  the 
popular  fancy  of  a  shibboleth-crazj^  nation,  and  pro 
vided  pap  for  the  fanciful,  for  the  theorists,  for  the 
flabby  idealists  and  doctrinaires.  If  I  melt  lead  and 
iron  and  copper  and  silver  and  gold  in  the  same  pot,  I 
get  a  bastard  metal,  do  I  not?  It  is  not,  as  a  fused 
product,  worth  a  tinker's  hoot.  Why,  even  Zangwill  is 
not  an  advocate  of  the  melting-pot.  He  is  a  Jew, 
proud  of  it,  and  extremely  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of 
the  Jewish  race.  He  is  a  Zionist — a  leader  of  the 
movement  to  crowd  the  Arabs  out  of  Palestine  and  re- 
populate  that  country  with  Jews.  He  feels  that  the 
Jews  have  an  ancient  and  indisputable  right  to  Pales 
tine,  although,  parenthetically  speaking,  I  do  not  be 
lieve  that  any  smart  Jew  who  ever  escaped  from  Pales 
tine  wants  to  go  back.  I  wouldn't  swap  the  Rancho 
Palomar  for  the  whole  country." 

Kay  and  her  father  laughed  at  his  earnest  yet  whim 
sical  tirade.  Don  Miguel  continued: 

"Then  we  have  that  asinine  chatter  about  'America, 
the  land  of  fair  play.'  In  theory — yes.  In  actual 
practice — not  always.  You  didn't  accumulate  your 
present  assets,  Mr.  Parker,  without  taking  an  occa 
sional  chance  on  side-tracking  equity  when  you  thought 
you  could  beat  the  case.  But  the  Jap  reminds  us  of 
our  reputation  for  fair  play,  and  smilingly  asks  us  if 
we  are  going  to  prejudice  that  reputation  by  discrimin 
ating  unjustly  against  him?" 

"It  appears,"  the  girl  suggested,  "that  all  these  an- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

cient  national  brags  come  home,  like  curses,  to  roost." 
"Indeed  they  do,  Miss  Parker!  But  to  get  on  with 
our  shibboleths.  We  hear  a  great  deal  of  twaddle 
about  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  I'm  wil 
ling  to  abide  by  such  a  natural  law,  provided  the  com 
petition  is  confined  to  mine  own  people — and  I'm  one 
of  those  chaps,  who,  to  date,  has  failed  to  survive.  But 
I  cannot  see  any  common  sense  in  opening  the  lists  to 
Orientals.  We  Californians  know  we  cannot  win  in 
competition  with  them."  He  paused  and  glanced  at 
Kay.  "Does  all  this  harangue  bore  you,  Miss 
Parker?" 

"Not  at  all.  Are  there  any  more  shibboleths?" 
"I  haven't  begun  to  enumerate  them.  Take,  for  in 
stance,  that  old  pacifist  gag,  that  Utopian  dream  that 
is  crystallized  in  the  words:  'The  road  to  universal 
peace.*  All  the  long  years  when  we  were  not  bothered 
by  wars  or  rumors  of  wars,  other  nations  were  whittling 
each  other  to  pieces.  And  these  agonized  neighbors, 
longing,  with  a  great  longing,  for  world-peace,  looked 
to  the  United  States  as  the  only  logical  country  in 
which  a  great  cure-all  for  wars  might  reasonably  be 
expected  to  germinate.  So  their  propagandists  came 
to  our  shores  and  started  societies  looking  toward  the 
establishment  of  brotherly  love,  and  thus  was  born  the 
shibboleth  of  universal  peace,  with  Uncle  Sam  heading 
the  parade  like  an  old  bell-mare  in  a  pack  train. 
What  these  peace-patriots  want  is  peace  at  any  price, 
although  they  do  not  advertise  the  fact.  We  proclaim 
to  the  world  that  we  are  a  Christian  nation.  Ergo,  we 
must  avoid  trouble.  The  avoidance  of  trouble  is  the 
policy  of  procrastinators,  the  vacillating,  and  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

weak.  For  one  cannot  avoid  real  trouble.  It  simply 
will  not  be  avoided;  consequently,  it  might  as  well  be 
met  and  settled  for  all  time." 

"But  surely,"  Parker  remarked,  "California  should 
subordinate  herself  to  the  wishes  of  the  majority." 

"Yes,  she  should,"  he  admitted  doggedly,  "and  she 
has  in  the  past.  I  think  that  was  before  California 
herself  really  knew  that  Oriental  emigration  was  not 
solely  a  California  problem  but  a  national  problem  of 
the  utmost  importance.  Indeed,  it  is  international. 
Of  course,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  we  Californians  are 
already  on  the  firing-line,  necessarily  it  follows  that 
we  must  make  some  noise  and,  incidentally,  glean  some 
real  first-hand  knowledge  of  this  so-called  problem.  I 
think  that  when  our  fellow  citizens  know  what  we  are 
fighting,  they  will  sympathize  with  us  and  promptly 
dedicate  the  United  States  to  the  unfaltering  principle 
that  ours  is  a  white  man's  country,  that  the  heritage 
we  have  won  from  the  wilderness  shall  be  held  inviolate 
for  Nordic  posterity  and  none  other." 

"Nevertheless,  despite  your  prejudice  against  the 
race,  you  are  bound  to  admire  the  Japanese — their 
manners,  thrift,  industry,  and  cleanliness."  Parker 
was  employing  one  of  the  old  stock  protests,  and  Don 
Miguel  knew  it. 

"I  do  not  admire  their  manners,  but  I  do  admire 
their  thrift,  industry,  and  cleanliness.  Their  manners 
are  abominable.  Their  excessive  courtesy  is  neither  in 
stinctive  nor  genuine;  it  is  camouflage  for  a  ruthless, 
greedy,  selfish,  calculating  nature.  I  have  met  many 
Japanese,  but  never  one  with  nobility  or  generosity  of 
soul.  They  are  disciples  of  the  principles  of  expedi- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  125 

ency.  If  a  mutual  agreement  works  out  to  their  satis 
faction,  well  and  good.  If  it  does  not,  they  present  a 
humble  and  saddened  mien.  'So  sorry.  I  zink  you 
no  understand  me.  I  don't  mean  zat.*  And  their  pe 
culiar  Oriental  psychology  leads  them  to  believe  they 
can  get  away  with  that  sort  of  thing  with  the  straight- 
thinking  Anglo-Saxon.  They  have  no  code  of  sports 
manship  ;  they  are  irritable  and  quarrelsome,  and  their 
contractual  relations  are  incompatible  with  those  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon.  They  are  not  truthful.  Individually 
and  collectively,  they  are  past  masters  of  evasion  and 
deceit,  and  therefore  they  are  the  greatest  diplomatists 
in  the  world,  I  verily  believe.  They  are  wonderfully 
shrewd,  and  they  have  sense  enough  to  keep  their  heads 
when  other  men  are  losing  theirs.  They  are  patient; 
they  plan  craftily  and  execute  carefully  and  ruthlessly. 
Would  you  care  to  graft  their  idea  of  industry  on  the 
white  race,  Mr.  Parker?" 

"I  would,"  Parker  declared,  firmly.  "It  is  getting 
to  be  the  fashion  nowadays  for  white  men  to  do  as 
little  work  as  possible,  and  half  do  that." 

"I  would  not  care  to  see  my  wife  or  my  mother  or  my 
sister  laboring  twelve  to  sixteen  hours  a  day  as  Japan 
ese  force  their  women  to  labor.  I  would  not  care  to 
contemplate  the  future  mothers  of  our  race  drawn  from 
the  ranks  of  twisted,  stunted,  broken-down,  and  pre 
maturely  aged  women.  Did  you  ever  see  a  bent  Japan 
ese  girl  of  twenty  waddling  in  from  a  day  of  labor  in  a 
field?  To  emulate  Japanese  industry,  with  its  peon 
age,  its  horrible,  unsanitary  factory  conditions,  its 
hopelessness,  would  be  to  thrust  woman's  hard-won 
sphere  in  modern  civilization  back  to  where  it  stood  at 


126  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  dawn  of  the  Christian  era.  Do  you  know.  Miss 
Parker,  that  love  never  enters  into  consideration  when 
a  Japanese  contemplates  marriage?  His  sole  purpose 
in  acquiring  a  mate  is  to  beget  children,  to  scatter  the 
seed  of  Yamato  over  the  world,  for  that  is  a  religious 
duty.  A  Jap  never  kisses  his  wife  or  shows  her  any 
evidences  of  affection.  She  is  a  chattel,  and  if  any 
body  should,  by  chance,  discover  him  kissing  his  wife, 
he  would  be  frightfully  mortified." 

"What  of  their  religious  views,  Don  Mike?" 

"If  Japan  can  be  said  to  have  an  official  religion, 
it  is  Shintoism,  not  Buddhism,  as  so  many  Occidental 
people  believe.  Shintoism  is  ancestor-worship,  and 
ascribes  divinity  to  the  emperor.  They  believe  he  is  a 
direct  descendant  of  the  sun-god,  Yamato." 

"Why,  they're  a  heathen  nation !"  Kay's  tones  were 
indicative  of  amazement. 

Farrel  smiled  his  tolerant  smile. 

"I  believe,  Miss  Parker,  that  any  people  who  will  get 
down  on  all  fours  to  worship  the  picture  of  their  em 
peror  and,  at  this  period  of  the  world's  progress,  as 
cribe  to  a  mere  human  being  the  attributes  of  divinity, 
are  certainly  deficient  in  common  sense,  if  not  in 
civilization.  However,  for  the  purpose  of  insuring  the 
realization  of  the  Japanese  national  aspirations,  Shin 
toism  is  a  need  vital  to  the  race.  Without  it,  they 
could  never  agree  among  themselves  for  i;hey  are 
naturally  quarrelsome,  suspicious  and  irritable.  How 
ever,  by  subordinating  everything  to  the  state  via  this 
religious  channel,  there  has  been  developed  a  national 
unity  that  has  never  existed  with  any  other  race.  The 
power  of  cohesion  of  this  people  is  marvelous,  and  will 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  127 

enable  it,  in  days  to  come,  to  accomplish  much  for  the 
race.  For  that  reason  alone,  our  very  lack  of  cohesion 
renders  the  aspirations  of  Japan  comparatively  easy 
of  fulfilment  unless  we  wake  up  and  attend  to  business." 

"How  do  you  know  all  this,  Mr.  Farrel?"  Parker 
demanded  incredulously. 

"I  have  read  translations  from  editorials  in  Japanese 
newspapers  both  in  Japan  and  California ;  I  have  read 
translations  of  the  speeches  of  eminent  Japanese  states 
men  ;  I  have  read  translations  from  Japanese  official  or 
semi-official  magazines,  and  I  have  read  translations 
from  patriotic  Japanese  novels.  I  know  what  I  am 
talking  about.  The  Japanese  race  holds  firmly  to  the 
belief  that  it  is  the  greatest  race  on  the  face  of  the 
globe,  that  its  religion,  Shintoism,  is  the  one  true  faith, 
that  it  behooves  it  to  carry  this  faith  to  the  benighted 
of  other  lands  and,  if  said  benighted  do  not  readily  ac 
cept  Shintoism,  to  force  its  blessings  upon  them  willy- 
mlly.  They  believe  that  they  know  what  is  good  for 
the  world;  they  believe  that  the  resources  of  the  world 
were  put  here  to  be  exploited  by  the  people  of  the 
world,  regardless  of  color,  creed,  or  geographical  limi 
tation.  They  feel  that  they  have  as  much  right  in 
North  America  as  we  have,  and  they  purpose  over 
running  us  and  making  our  country  Japanese  terri 
tory.  And  it  was  your  purpose  to  aid  in  the  consum 
mation  of  this  monstrous  ambition,"  he  charged 
bluntly. 

"At  least,"  Parker  defended,  "they  are  a  more  whole 
some  people  than  southern  Europeans.  And  they  are 
not  Mongolians." 

FarrePs  eyebrows  arched. 


128  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"You  have  been  reading  Japanese  propaganda,"  he 
replied.  "Of  course  they  are  Mongolians.  Everybody 
who  has  reached  the  age  of  reason  knows  that.  One 
does  not  have  to  be  a  biologist  to  know  that  they  are 
Mongolians.  Indeed,  the  only  people  who  deny  it  are 
the  Japanese,  and  they  do  not  believe  it.  As  for 
southern  Europeans,  have  you  not  observed  that  nearly 
all  of  them  possess  brachycephalic  skulls,  indicating 
the  influence  upon  them  of  Mongolian  invasions 
thousands  of  years  ago  and  supplying,  perhaps,  a  very 
substantial  argument  that,  if  we  find  the  faintly  Mon 
goloid  type  of  emigrant  repugnant  to  us,  we  can  never 
expect  to  assimilate  the  pure-bred  Mongol."1 

"What  do  you  mean,  'brachycephalic'?"  Parker 
queried,  uneasily. 

"They  belong  to  the  race  of  round  heads.  Didn't 
you  know  that  ethnologists  grub  round  in  ancient  ceme 
teries  and  tombs  and  trace  the  evolution  and  wander 
ings  of  tribes  of  men  by  the  skulls  they  find  there?" 

"I  did  not." 

Kay  commenced  to  giggle  at  her  father's  confusion. 
The  latter  had  suddenly,  as  she  realized,  made  the  sur 
prising  discovery  that  in  this  calm  son  of  the  San 
Gregorio  he  had  stumbled  upon  a  student,  to  attempt 
to  break  a  conversational  lance  with  whom  must  end 
in  disaster.  His  daughter's  mirth  brought  him  to  a 
realization  of  the  sorry  figure  he  would  present  in  ar 
gument. 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  are  you  laughing  at?"  he  de 
manded,  a  trifle  austerely. 

"I'm  laughing  at  you.     You  told  me  yesterday  you 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  129 

were  loaded  for  these  Californians  and  could  flatten 
their  an ti- Japanese  arguments  in  a  jiffy." 

"Perhaps  I  am  loaded  still.  Remember,  Kay.  Mr. 
Farrell  has  done  all  of  the  talking  and  we  have  been 
attentive  listeners.  Wait  until  I  have  had  my  innings." 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Parker,"  Farrel  asked,  "who 
loaded  you  up  with  pro- Japanese  arguments?" 

Parker  flushed  and  was  plainly  ill  at  ease.  Farrel 
turned  to  Kay. 

"I  do  not  know  yet  where  you  folks  came  from, 
but  I'll  make  a  bet  that  I  can  guess — in  one  guess." 

"What  will  you  bet,  my  erudite  friend?"  the  girl 
bantered. 

"I'll  bet  you  Panchito  against  a  box  of  fifty  of  the 
kind  of  cigars  your  father  smokes." 

"Taken.     Where  do  we  hail  from,  Don  Mike?" 

"From  New  York  city." 

"Dad,  send  Mr.  Farrel  a  box  of  cigars." 

"Now,  I'll  make  you  another  bet.  I'll  stake  Pan 
chito  against  another  box  of  the  same  cigars  that  your 
father  is  a  member  of  the  Japan  Society,  of  New 
York  city." 

"Send  Mr.  Farrel  another  box  of  cigars,  popsy- 
wops.  Don  Mike,  how  did  you  guess  it?" 

"Oh,  all  the  real  plutocrats  in  New  York  have  been 
sold  memberships  in  that  instrument  of  propaganda  by 
the  wily  sons  of  Nippon.  The  Japan  Society  is  sup 
posed  to  be  a  vehicle  for  establishing  friendlier  com 
mercial  and  social  relations  between  the  United  States 
and  Japan.  The  society  gives  wonderful  banquets  and 
yammers  away  about  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  and 
sends  out  pro-Japanese  propaganda.  Really,  it's  a 


130  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

wonderful  institution,  Miss  Parker.  The  millionaire 
white  men  of  New  York  finance  the  society,  and  the 
Japs  run  it.  It  was  some  shrewd  Japanese  member  of 
the  Japan  Society  who  sent  you  to  Okada  on  this  land- 
deal,  was  it  not,  Mr.  Parker?" 

"You're  too  good  a  guesser  for  comfort,"  the  latter 
parried.  "I'm  going  to  write  some  letters.  I'm  motor 
ing  in  to  El  Toro  this  afternoon,  and  I'll  want  to  mail 
them." 

"  'Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereoP,"  Don 
Miguel  assured  him  lightly.  "Whenever  you  feel  the 
urge  for  further  information  about  yourself  and  your 
Japanese  friends,  I  am  at  your  service.  I  expect  to 
prove  to  you  in  about  three  lessons  that  you  have 
unwittingly  permitted  yourself  to  develop  into  a  very 
poor  citizen,  even  if  you  did  load  up  with  Liberty 
Bonds  and  deliver  four-minute  speeches  during  all  of 
the  loan  drives." 

"Oh,  I'm  as  good  as  the  average  American,  despite 
what  you  say,"  retorted  the  banker,  good-naturedly, 
as  he  left  them. 

The  master  of  Palomar  gazed  after  the  retreating 
figure  of  his  guest.  In  his  glance  there  was  curiosity, 
pain,  and  resignation.  He  continued  to  stare  at  the 
door  through  which  Parker  had  disappeared,  until 
roused  from  his  reverie  by  Kay's  voice. 

"The  average  American  doesn't  impress  you  greatly, 
does  he,  Don  Mike?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  one  of  that  supercilious  breed  of  Ameri 
cans  which  toadies  to  an  alleged  European  culture  by 
finding  fault  with  his  own  people,"  he  hastened  to  as 
sure  her.  "What  distresses  me  is  the  knowledge  that 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  131 

we  are  a  very  moral  nation,  that  we  have  never  sub 
jugated  weaker  peoples,  that  we  have  never  coveted 
our  neighbor's  goods,  that  we  can  outthink  and  out 
work  and  outgame  and  outinvent  every  nation  under 
heaven,  and  yet  haven't  brains  enough  to  do  our  own 
thinking  in  world-affairs.  It  is  discouraging  to  con 
template  the  smug  complacency,  whether  it  be  due  to 
ignorance  or  apathy,  which  permits  aliens  to  reside  in 
our  midst  and  set  up  agencies  for  our  destruction  and 
their  benefit.  If  I Why,  you're  in  riding- 
costume,  aren't  you?" 

"You  will  never  be  popular  with  women  if  you  do 
not  mend  your  ways,"  she  informed  him,  with  a  little 
grimace  of  disapproval.  "Do  you  not  know  that 
women  loathe  non-observing  men?" 

"So  do  I.  Stodgy  devils !  Sooner  or  later,  the  fool- 
killer  gets  them  all.  Please  do  not  judge  me  to-day, 
Miss  Parker.  Perhaps,  after  a  while,  I  may  be  more 
discerning.  By  Jupiter,  those  very  becoming  riding- 
togs  will  create  no  end  of  comment  among  the  na 
tives  !" 

"You  said  Panchito  was  to  be  mine  while  I  am  your 
guest,  Don  Mike." 

"I  meant  it." 

"I  do  not  relish  the  easy  manner  in  which  you  risk 
parting  with  him.  The  idea  of  betting  that  wonder- 
horse  against  a  box  of  filthy  cigars !" 

"Oh,  I  wasn't  risking  him,"  he  retorted,  dryly. 
"However,  before  you  ridle  Panchito,  I'll  put  him 
through  his  paces.  He  hasn't  been  ridden  for  three 
or  four  months,  I  dare  say,  and  when  he  feels  particu 
larly  good,  he  carries  on  just  a  little." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"If  he's  sober-minded,  may  I  ride  him  to-day?'* 

"We  shall  quarrel  if  you  insist  upon  treating  your 
self  as  company.  My  home  and  all  I  possess  are  here 
for  your  happiness.  If  your  mother  and  father  do  not 
object " 

"My  father  doesn't  bother  himself  opposing  my 
wishes,  and  mother — by  the  way,  you've  made  a  per 
fectly  tremendous  hit  with  mother.  She  told  me  I  could 
go  riding  with  you." 

He  blushed  boyishly  at  this  vote  of  confidence.  Kay 
noted  the  blush,  and  liked  him  all  the  better  for  it. 

"Very  well,"  he  answered.  "We'll  ride  down  to  the 
mission  first.  I  must  pay  my  respects  to  my  friends 
there — didn't  bother  to  look  in  on  them  last  night,  you 
know.  Then  we  will  ride  over  to  the  Sepulvida  ranch 
for  luncheon.  I  want  you  to  know  Anita  Sepulvida. 
She's  a  very  lovely  girl  and  a  good  pal  of  mine.  You'll 
like  her."  ~ 

"Let's  go,"  she  suggested,  "while  mother  is  still  con 
voying  Mr.  Okada.  He  is  still  interested  in  that  sweet- 
lime  tree.  By  the  way,"  she  continued,  as  they  rose 
and  walked  down  the  porch  together,  "I  have  never 
heard  of  a  sweet-lime  before." 

"It's  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  this  country,  Miss 
Parker,  and  it  is  very  old.  Just  before  it  came  into 
bearing  for  the  first  time,  my  grandmother,  while  walk 
ing  along  the  porch  with  a  pan  of  sugar  in  her  hands, 
stubbed  her  toe  and  fell  off  the  porch,  spilling  her  pan 
of  sugar  at  the  base  of  the  tree.  The  result  of  this 
accident  is  noticeable  in  the  fruit  to  this  very  day." 

She  glanced  up  at  him  suspiciously,  but  not  even  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  hovered  on  his  grave  features.  He 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  133 

opened  the  rear  gate  for  her  and  they  passed  out  into 
the  compound. 

"That  open  fireplace  in  the  adobe  wall  under  the 
shed  yonder  was  where  the  cowboys  used  to  sit  and 
dry  themselves  after  a  rainy  day  on  the  range,"  he 
informed  her.  "In  fact,  this  compound  was  reserved 
for  the  help.  Here  they  held  their  bailies  in  the  old 
days." 

"What  is  that  little  building  yonder — that  lean-to 
against  the  main  adobe  wall?"  Kay  demanded. 

"That  was  the  settlement-room.  You  must  know 
that  the  possessors  of  dark  blood  seldom  settle  a  dis 
pute  by  argument,  Miss  Parker.  In  days  gone  by, 
whenever  a  couple  of  peons  quarreled  (and  they  quar 
reled  frequently),  the  majordomo,  or  foreman  of  the 
ranch,  would  cause  these  men  to  be  stripped  nalied 
and  placed  in  this  room  to  settle  their  row  with  na 
ture's  weapons.  When  honor  was  satisfied,  the  victor 
came  to  this  grating  and  announced  it.  Not  infre 
quently,  peons  have  emerged  from  this  room  minus 
an  ear  or  a  nose,  but,  as  a  general  thing,  this  method 
of  settlement  was  to  be  preferred  to  knife  or  pistol." 

Farrel  tossed  an  empty  box  against  the  door  and 
invited  the  girl  to  climb  up  on  it  and  peer  into  the 
room.  She  did  so.  Instantly  a  ferocious  yell  re 
sounded  from  the  semi-darkness  within. 

"Good  gracious!  Is  that  a  ghost?"  Kay  cried,  and 
leaped  to  the  ground. 

"No;  confound  it!"  Farrel  growled.  "It's  your 
Japanese  cook.  Pablo  locked  him  in  there  this  morn 
ing,  in  order  that  Carolina  might  have  a  clear  field 
for  her  culinary  art.  Pablo!" 


134  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

His  cry  brought  an  answering  hail  from  Pablo,  over 
at  the  barn,  and  presently  the  old  majordomo  entered 
the  compound.  Farrel  spoke  sternly  to  him  in  Spanish, 
and,  with  a  shrug  of  indifference,  Pablo  unlocked  the 
door  of  the  settlement-room  and  the  Japanese  cook 
bounded  out.  He  was  inarticulate  with  frenzy,  and 
disappeared  through  the  gate  of  the  compound  with 
an  alacrity  comparable  only  to  that  of  a  tin-canned 
dog. 

"I  knew  he  had  been  placed  here  temporarily,"  Don 
Miguel  confessed,  "but  I  did  think  Pablo  would  have 
sense  enough  to  let  him  out  when  breakfast  was  over. 
I'm  sorry." 

"I'm  not.  I  think  that  incident  is  the  funniest  I 
have  ever  seen,"  the  girl  laughed.  "Poor  outraged 
fellow!" 

"Well,  if  you  think  it's  funny,  so  do  I.  Any  sorrow 
I  felt  atyour  cook's  incarceration  was  due  to  my  ap 
prehension  as  to  your  feelings,  not  his." 

"What  a  fearful  rage  he  is  in,  Don  Mike!" 

"Oh,  well,  he  can  help  himself  to  the  fruit  of  our 
famous  lime-tree  and  get  sweet  again.  Pablo,  you 
russet  scoundrel,  no  more  rough  stuff  if  you  know 
what's  good  for  you.  Where  is  Panchito?" 

"I  leave  those  horse  loose  in  the  pasture,"  Pablo  re 
plied,  a  whit  abashed.  "I  like  for  see  if  those  horse 
he  got  some  brains  like  before  you  go  ride  heem.  For 
long  time  Panchito  don'  hear  hees  boss  call  heem. 
Mebbeso  he  forget — no?" 

"We  shall  see,  Pablo." 


XII 


THEY  walked  out  to  the  barn.  In  a  little  green  field 
in  the  oak-studded  valley  below,  a  dozen  horses 
were  feeding.  Farrel  whistled  shrilly.  Instantly,  one 
of  the  horses  raised  his  head  and  listened.  Again 
Farrel  whistled,  and  a  neigh  answered  him  as  Panchito 
broke  from  the  herd  and  came  galloping  up  the  slope. 
When  his  master  whistled  again,  the  gallop  developed 
into  a  furious  burst  of  speed ;  whereat  Farrel  slipped 
inside  the  barn  and  shut  the  door,  while  round  and 
round  the  barn  Panchito  galloped,  seeking  the  lost 
master. 

Suddenly  Don  Miguel  emerged  and,  with  little  affec 
tionate  nickerings,  the  beautiful  animal  trotted  up  to 
him,  ran  his  head  over  the  master's  shoulder,  and 
rubbed  his  sleek  cheek  against  the  man's.  Farrel  nuz 
zled  him  and  rubbed  him  lovingly  between  the  ears  be 
fore  producing  a  lump  of  sugar.  Upon  command, 
Panchito  squatted  on  his  hind  quarters  like  a  dog  and 
held  his  head  out  stiffly.  Upon  his  nose  Farrel  bal 
anced  the  lump  of  sugar,  backed  away,  and  stood  in 
front  of  him.  The  horse  did  not  move.  Suddenly 
Farrel  snapped  his  fingers.  With  a  gentle  toss  of  his 
head,  Panchito  threw  the  lump  of  sugar  in  the  air  and 
made  a  futile  snap  at  it  as  it  came  down.  Then  he 
rose,  picked  the  lump  up  carefully,  and,  holding  it 

135 


136  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

between  his  lips,  advanced  and  proffered  his  master  a 
bite. 

"Oh,  you  eat  it  yourself !"  Farrel  cried,  and  reached 
for  the  horse's  unkempt  mane.  With  the  ease  of  long 
practice,  he  swung  aboard  the  horse  and,  at  the  touch 
of  his  heels,  Panchito  bounded  away.  Far  down  the 
mesa  he  raced,  Farrel  guiding  him  with  his  knees ;  then 
back  and  over  the  six-foot  corral-fence  with  something 
of  the  airy  freedom  of  a  bird.  In  the  corral,  Farrel 
slid  off,  ran  with  the  galloping  animal  for  fifty  feet, 
grasping  his  mane,  and  sprang  completely  over  him, 
ran  fifty  feet  more  and  sprang  back,  as  nimbly  as  a 
monkey.  Panchito  was  galloping  easily,  steadily,  now, 
at  a  trained  gait,  like  a  circus  horse,  so  Farrel  sat 
sideways  on  him  and  discarded  his  boots,  after  which 
he  stood  erect  on  the  smooth,  glossy  back  and  rode 
him,  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other.  Next  he  sat 
down  on  the  animal  again  and  clapped  his  hands. 

"Panchito,  iny  boots!"  he  ordered.  But  Panchito 
only  pinned  his  ears  and  shook  his  head.  "You  see,*' 
Farrel  called  to  Kay,  "he  is  a  gentleman,  and  declines 
to  perform  a  menial  service.  But  I  shall  force  him. 
Panchito,  you  rebel,  pick  up  my  boots  and  hand  them 
to  me." 

For  answer,  Panchito  threw  his  hind  end  aloft  half 
a  dozen  times,  and  Kay's  silvery  laugh  echoed  through 
the  corral  as  Farrel,  appearing  to  lose  his  seat,  slid 
forward  on  the  horse's  withers  and  clung  with  arms  and 
legs  round  Panchito's  neck,  simulating  terror.  There 
upon,  Panchito  stood  up  on  his  hind  legs,  and  Farrel, 
making  futile  clutchings  at  the  horse's  mane,  slid  help- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  137 

lessly  back  over  his  mount's  glossy  rump  and  sat  down 
rather  solidly  in  the  dust  of  the  corral. 

"Bravo !"  the  girl  cried.    "Why,  he's  a  circus  horse !" 

"I've  schooled  him  a  little  for  trick  riding  at  rodeos, 
Miss  Parker.  We've  carried  off  many  a  prize,  and 
when  I  dress  in  the  motley  of  a  clown  and  pretend  to 
ride  him  rough  and  do  that  silly  slide,  most  people 
enjoy  it." 

Farrel  got  up,  recovered  his  boots,  and  put  them  on. 

"He'll  do,  the  old  humorist,"  he  announced,  as  he 
joined  her.  "He  hasn't  forgotten  anything,  and 
wasn't  he  glad  to  see  me  again?  You  use  an  English 
saddle,  I  dare  say,  and  ride  with  a  short  stirrup?" 

Panchito  dutifully  followed  like  a  dog  at  heel  to  the 
tack-room,  where  Farrel  saddled  him  and  carefully 
fitted  the  bridle  with  the  snaffle-bit.  Following  a  com 
manding  slap  on  the  fore  leg,  the  intelligent  animal 
knelt  for  Kay  to  mount  him,  after  which,  Farrel  ad 
justed  the  stirrup  leathers  for  her. 

In  the  meantime,  Pablo  was  saddling  a  splendid,  big 
dappled-gray  gelding. 

"One  of  the  best  roping-horses  in  California,  and 
very  fast  for  half  a  mile.  He's  half  thoroughbred," 
Tarrel  explained.  "He  was  my  father's  mount."  He 
caressed  the  gray's  head.  "Do  you  miss  him,  Bob, 
old- timer?"  he  queried. 

Kay  observed  her  companion's  saddle.  It  was  of 
black,  hand-carved  leather,  with  sterling-silver  trim 
mings  and  long  tapaderas — a  saddle  to  thrill  every 
drop  of  the  Castilian  blood  that  flowed  in  the  veins  of 
its  owner.  The  bridle  was  of  finely  plaited  rawhide, 
with  fancy  sliding  knots,  a  silver  Spanish  bit,  and  single 


138  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

reins  of  silver-link  chain  and  plaited  rawhide.  At  the 
pommel  hung  coiled  a  well-worn  rawhide  riata. 

When  the  gray  was  saddled,  Farrel  did  not  mount, 
but  came  to  Kay  and  handed  her  the  horsehair  leading- 
rope. 

"If  you  will  be  good  enough  to  take  the  horses  round 
in  front,"  he  suggested,  "I'll  go  back  to  the  kennels 
and  loose  the  hounds.  On  our  way  over  to  the  Sepul- 
vida  rancho,  we're  liable  to  put  up  a  panther  or  a 
coyote,  and  if  we  can  get  our  quarry  out  into  the  open, 
we'll  have  a  glorious  chase.  I've  run  coyotes  and  pan 
thers  down  with  Panchito  and  roped  them.  A  panther 
isn't  to  be  sneezed  at,"  he  continued,  apologetically. 
"The  state  pays  a  bounty  of  thirty  dollars  for  a  pan 
ther-pelt,  and  then  gives  you  back  the  pelt." 

Five  minutes  later,  when  he  came  round  the  north 
corner  of  the  old  hacienda,  his  hounds  frisking  before 
him,  he  met  Kay  riding  to  meet  him  on  Panchito,  but 
the  gray  gelding  was  not  in  sight.  The  girl  was  ex 
cited. 

"Where  is  my  mount,  Miss  Parker?"  he  demanded. 

"Just  as  I  rode  up  in  front,  a  man  came  out  of  the 
patio,  and  started  that  automobile  hurriedly.  He  had 
scarcely  gotten  it  turned  round  when  one  of  his  front 
tires  blew  out.  This  seemed  to  infuriate  him  and 
frighten  him.  He  considered  a  minute  or  two,  then 
suddenly  ran  over  to  me,  snatched  the  leading-rope 
out  of  my  hand,  mounted,  and  fled  down  the  avenue  at 
top  speed." 

"  'The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth*,"  the  mas 
ter  of  Palomar  replied,  quietly,  and  stepped  over  to 
the  automobile  for  an  examination  of  the  license.  "Ah, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  139 

my  father's  ancient  enemy!"  he  exclaimed,  "Andre 
Loustalot  has  been  calling  on  your  father,  and  has 
just  learned  that  I  am  living.  I  think  I  comprehend 
his  reason  for  borrowing  my  horse  and  dusting  out  of 
here  so  precipitately." 

"There  he  goes  now!"  Kay  cried,  as  the  gray  burst 
from  the  shelter  of  the  palms  in  the  avenue  and  entered 
the  long  open  stretch  of  white  road  leading  down  the 
San  Gregorio. 

Don  Mike's  movements  were  as  casual  as  if  the  theft 
of  a  horse  in  broad  daylight  was  an  every-day  occur 
rence. 

"Unfortunately  for  that  stupid  fellow,  he  borrowed 
the  wrong  horse,"  he  announced,  gravely.  "The  sole 
result  of  his  action  will  be  to  delay  our  ride  until  to 
morrow.  I'm  sorry,  but  it  now  becomes  necessary  for 
me  to  ask  you  for  Panchito." 

She  slid  silently  to  the  ground.  Swiftly  but  calmly 
he  readjusted  the  stirrups;  then  he  faced  the  girl. 

"Want  to  see  some  fun?"  he  demanded. 

"Why — yes,"  she  replied,  breathlessly. 

"You're  a  good  little  sport.  Take  your  father's  car 
and  follow  me.  Please  bring  Pablo  with  you,  and  tell 
him  I  said  he  was  to  bring  his  rifle.  If  Loustalot  gets 
me,  he  is  to  follow  on  Panchito  and  get  Loustalot. 
Thank  you,  Miss  Parker." 

He  swung  lightly  into  the  unaccustomed  flat  saddle 
and,  disdaining  to  follow  the  road,  cut  straight  across 
country,  Panchito  taking  the  fences  easily,  the  hounds 
belling  lustily  as  they  strung  out  behind  him.  Kay 
did  not  wait  to  follow  his  flight,  but  calling  for  William 
to  get  out  the  car,  she  ran  round  to  the  barn  and  de- 


140  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

livered  Farrel's  message  to  Pablo,  who  grunted  his 
comprehension  and  started  for  his  cabin  at  a  surpris 
ing  rate  of  speed  for  an  old  man.  Five  minutes  after 
Farrel  had  left  the  Rancho  Palomar,  Kay  and  Pablo 
were  roaring  down  the  valley  in  pursuit. 

Half  a  mile  beyond  the  mission  they  came  upon  Don 
Mike  and  his  father's  enemy.  In  the  first  mile,  the 
latter  had  ridden  the  gray  out;  spent,  gasping,  the 
gallant  animal  was  proceeding  at  a  leg-weary,  lumber 
ing  gallop  when  Miguel  Farrel,  following  on  Panchito 
at  half  that  gallant  animal's  speed,  came  up  with  Lous- 
talot.  Straight  at  the  big  gray  he  drove,  "hazing" 
him  off  the  road  and  stopping  him  abruptly.  At  the 
same  time,  he  leaped  from  Panchito  full  on  top  of 
Loustalot,  and  bore  the  latter  crashing  to  the  ground. 

The  chase  was  over.  Half-stunned,  the  enemy  of 
Don  Miguel  Jose  Farrel  II  lay  flat  on  his  back,  blink 
ing  up  at  Don  Miguel  Farrel  III  as  the  latter's  knees 
pressed  the  Loustalot  breast,  the  while  his  fingers 
clasped  the  hairy  Loustalot  throat  in  a  grip  that  was 
a  promise  of  death  if  the  latter  struggled. 

As  Kay  drew  up  in  the  car  and,  white-faced  and 
wondering,  gazed  at  the  unwonted  spectacle,  Miguel 
Farrel  released  his  captive  and  stood  erect. 

"So  sorry  to  have  made  a  brawl  in  your  presence, 
Miss  Parker,  but  he  would  have  ruined  our  old  Bob 
horse  if  I  hadn't  overtaken  him."  He  turned  to  the 
man  on  the  ground.  "Get  up,  Loustalot !"  The  latter 
staggered  to  his  feet.  "Pablo,"  Farrel  continued,  "take 
this  man  back  to  the  ranch  and  lock  him  up  in  your 
private  calaboose.  See  that  he  does  not  escape,  and 
permit  no  one  to  speak  with  him." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

From  the  gray's  saddle  he  took  a  short  piece  of 
rope,  such  as  vaqueros  use  to  tie  the  legs  of  an  animal 
when  they  have  roped  and  thrown  it. 

"Mount!"  he  commanded.  Loustalot  climbed  wear 
ily  aboard  the  spent  gray,  and  held  his  hands  behind 
him  with  Farrel  bound  them  securely.  Pablo  there 
upon  mounted  Panchito,  took  the  gray's  leading-rope, 
and  started  back  to  the  ranch. 

"How  white  your  face  is !"  Farrel  murmured,  dep- 
recatingly,  as  he  came  to  the  side  of  the  car.  "So 
sorry  our  ride  has  been  spoiled."  He  glanced  at  his 
wrist-watch.  "Only  ten  o'clock,"  he  continued.  "J 
wonder  if  you'd  be  gracious  enough  to  motor  me  in 
to  El  Toro.  Your  father  plans  to  use  the  car  after 
luncheon,  but  we  will  be  back  by  twelve-thirty." 

"Certainly.  Delighted!"  the  girl  replied,  in  rather 
a  small,  frightened  voice. 

"Thank  you."  He  considered  a  moment.  "I  think 
it  no  less  than  fair  to  warn  you,  Miss  Parker,  that 
my  trip  has  to  do  with  a  scheme  that  may  deprive 
your  father  of  his  opportunity  to  acquire  the  Rancho 
Palomar  at  one-third  of  its  value.  I  think  the  scheme 
may  be  at  least  partially  successful,  but  if  I  am  to 
succeed  at  all,  I'll  have  to  act  promptly." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"My  father  plays  fair,  Don  Mike.    I  hope  you  win." 

And  she  unlatched  the  door  of  the  tonneau  and  mo 
tioned  him  to  enter. 


XIII 

return  of  Pablo  Artelan  to  the  hacienda  with 
•*•  his  employer's  prisoner  was  a  silent  and  dignified 
one  up  to  the  moment  they  reached  the  entrance  to 
the  palm  avenue.  Here  the  prisoner,  apparently  hav 
ing  gathered  together  his  scattered  wits,  turned  in  the 
saddle  and  addressed  his  guard. 

"Artelan,"  he  said,  in  Spanish,  "if  you  will  permit 
me  to  go,  I  will  give  you  five  thousand  dollars." 

"If  you  are  worth  five  thousand  dollars  to  me,"  the 
imperturbable  Pablo  replied,  calmly,  "how  much  more 
are  you  worth  to  Don  Miguel  Farrel?" 

"Ten  thousand !     You  will  be  wealthy." 

"What  need  have  I  for  wealth,  Loustalot?  Does  not 
Don  Miguel  provide  all  things  necessary  for  a  happy 
existence?" 

"I  will  give  you  twelve  thousand.  Do  not  be  a  fool, 
Artelan.  Come;  be  sensible  and  listen  to  reason." 

''Silence,  animal !  Is  not  the  blood  of  my  brother  on 
your  head?  One  word ' 

"Fifteen  thousand,  Artelan.  Quick.  There  is  little 
time  to " 

Pablo  rode  up  beside  him  and  quite  deliberately 
smote  the  man  heavily  across  the  mouth  with  the  back 
of  his  hand. 

"There  will  be  no  more  talk  of  money,"  he  com 
manded,  tersely. 

John  Parker  had  finished  writing  his  letters  and  was 

142 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  143 

standing,  with  his  wife  and  the  potato  baron,  in  front 
of  the  hacienda  when  Pablo  and  his  prisoner  rode  into 
the  yard.  Thin  rivulets  of  blood  were  trickling  from 
the  Basque's  nose  and  lips;  his  face  was  ashen  with 
rage  and  apprehension. 

"Why,  Loustalot,  what  has  happened?"  Parker 
cried,  and  stepped  out  to  intercept  the  gray  gelding, 
but  Pablo,  riding  behind,  struck  the  gray  on  the  flank, 
and  the  animal  bounded  forward.  But  Parker  was 
not  to  be  denied.  He,  too,  leaped,  seized  the  reins,  and 
brought  the  animal. to  a  halt.  Pablo  glared  at  him 
balefully;  then,  remembering  that  this  man  was  no 
longer  an  interloper,  but  an  honored  guest  of  the  house 
of  Farrel,  he  removed  his  sombrero  and  bowed  courte^ 
ously. 

"Senor  Parker,"  he  explained,  "thees  man,  Lous 
talot,  have  made  the  beeg  meestake  to  steal  thees  horse 
from  Don  Miguel  Farrel.  For  long  time  since  Don 
Miguel  he's  beeg  like  leetle  baby,  thees  Basque  he 
cannot  set  the  foot  on  the  Rancho  Palomar,  but  to-day, 
because  he  theenk  Don  Miguel  don*  leeve,  theese  fellow 
have  the  beeg  idea  she's  all  right  for  come  to  theese 
rancho.  Well,  he  come."  Here  Pablo  shrugged.  "I 
think  mebbeso  you  tell  theese  Loustalot  Don  Miguel 
have  come  back.  Car-ramba!  He  is  scared  like  hell. 
Queeck,  like  rabbeet,  he  run  for  those  automobile,  but 
those  automobile  she  have  one  leak  in  the  wheel.  Senor, 
thees  is  the  judgment  of  God.  Myself,  I  theenk  the 
speerit  of  Don  Miguel's  father  have  put  the  nail  where 
thees  fellow  can  peeck  heem  up.  Well,  when  hee*s 
nothing  for  do,  hee's  got  for  do  sometheeng,  eh?  Mira! 
If  Don  Miguel  catch  thees  coyote  on  the  Rancho  Pal 
omar,  hee's  cut  off  hees  tail  like  that" — and  Pablo 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

snapped  his  tobacco-stained  fingers.  "Queeck!  Hees 
got  for  do  something  for  make  the  vamose.  The  Se- 
iiorita  Parker,  she  rides  Panchito  and  holds  the  gray 
horse  for  Don  Miguel,  who  has  gone  for  get  the  dogs. 
Thees  animal,  Loustalot,  hee's  go  crazy  with  the  fear, 
so  he  grab  thees  gray  horse  from  the  Senorita  Parker 
and  hee's  ride  away  fast  like  the  devil  just  when  Don! 
Miguel  arrive  with  the  hounds.  Then  Don  Miguel, 
hee's  take  Panchito  and  go  get  thees  man." 

"But  where  are  Don  Miguel  and  Miss  Parker  now?" 

"Mees  Parker,  she  take  the  automobile;  the  senorlta 
and  Don  Miguel  go  to  El  Toro.  Me,  I  come  back  with 
thees  Basque  for  put  heem  in  the  calaboose." 

"But,  Pablo,  you  cannot  confine  this  man  without 
a  warrant." 

Pablo,  too  polite  to  argue  with  a  guest,  merely  bowed 
and  smiled  deprecatingly. 

"My  boss,  hee's  tell  me  put  thees  fellow  in  the  cala 
boose.  If  trouble  come  from  thees — well,  Don  Miguel 
have  the  fault,  not  Pablo  Artelan.  If  the  senor  please 
for  let  go  the  gray  horse — no  ?" 

"Farrel  has  gone  to  El  Toro  to  attach  my  bank- 
account  and  my  sheep,"  the  Basque  explained  in  a 
whisper,  leaning  low  over  the  gray's  neck.  "His 
father  had  an  old  judgment  against  me.  When  I 
thought  young  Farrel  dead,  I  dared  do  business — iii 
my  own  name — understand?  Now,  if  he  collects,  you've 
lost  the  Rancho  Palomar — help  me,  for  God's  sake, 
Parker  I" 

Parker's  hand  fell  away  from  the  reins. 

"I  have  no  sympathy  for  you,  Loustalot,"  he  replied, 
coldly.  "If  you  have  stolen  this  horse,  you  must  pay 
the  penalty.  I  shall  not  help  you.  This  is  no  affair 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  145 

of  mine."  And  he  stepped  aside  and  waved  Loustalot 
back  into  Pablo's  possession,  who  thanked  him  politely 
and  rode  away  round  the  hacienda  wall.  Three  min 
utes  later,  Loustalot,  his  hands  unbound,  was  safe  un 
der  lock  and  key  in  the  settlement-room,  and  Pablo, 
rifle  in  lap,  sat  on  a  box  outside  the  door  and  rolled  a 
brown-paper  cigarette. 

Throughout  the  preceding  colloquy,  Mrs.  Parker 
had  said  nothing.  When  Pablo  and  his  prisoner  had 
disappeared,  she  asked  her  husband: 

"What  did  that  man  say  to  you?  He  spoke  in  such 
a  low  tone  I  couldn't  hear  him." 

Parker,  without  hesitation,  related  to  her,  in  the 
presence  of  Okada,  the  astonishing  news  which  Lous 
talot  had  given  him. 

"Good!"  the  lady  declared,  emphatically.  "I  hope 
that  delightful  Don  Mike  collects  every  penny." 

"Very  poor  business,  I  zink,"  Mr.  Okada  opined, 
thoughtfully. 

"At  any  rate,"  Parker  observed,  "our  host  isn't  let 
ting  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  I  wonder  if  he'll 
attach  Loustalot's  automobile.  It's  new,  and  worth 
about  eight  thousand  dollars.  Well,  we  shall  see  what 
we  shall  see." 

"I  zink  I  take  little  walk.  'Scuse  me,  please,"  said 
Okada,  and  bowed  to  Parker  and  his  wife.  He  gave 
both  the  impression  that  he  had  been  an  unwilling  wit 
ness  to  an  unhappy  and  distressing  incident  and  wished 
to  efface  himself  from  the  scene.  Mrs.  Parker  excused 
him  with  a  brief  and  somewhat  wintry  smile,  and  the 
little  Oriental  started  strolling  down  the  palm-lined 
avenue.  No  sooner  had  the  gate  closed  behind  them, 
however,  than  he  hastened  back  to  Loustalot's  car, 


146  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

and  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  of  furious  labor  had  suc 
ceeded  in  exchanging  the  deflated  tire  for  one  of  the 
inflated  spare  tires  at  the  rear  of  the  car.  This  matter 
attended  to,  he  strolled  over  to  the  ranch  blacksmith 
shop  and  searched  through  it  until  he  found  that  which 
he  sought — a  long,  heavy  pair  of  bolt-clippers  such  as 
stockmen  use  for  dehorning  young  cattle.  Armed  with 
this  tool,  he  slipped  quietly  round  to  the  rear  of 
Pablo's  "calaboose,"  and  went  to  work  noiselessly  on 
the  small  iron-grilled  window  of  the  settlement-room. 

The  bars  were  an  inch  in  diameter  and  too  thick  to 
be  cut  with  the  bolt-clippers,  but  Okada  did  not  de 
spair.  With  the  tool  he  grasped  the  adobe  window- 
ledge  and  bit  deeply  into  it.  Piece  after  piece  of  the 
ancient  adobe  came  away,  until  presently  the  bases  of 
the  iron  bars  lay  exposed;  whereupon  Okada  seized 
them,  one  by  one,  in  his  hands  and  bent  them  upward 
and  outward,  backward  and  forward,  until  he  was  en 
abled  to  remove  them  altogether.  Then  he  stole  quietly 
back  to  the  blacksmith  shop,  restored  the  bolt-clippers, 
went  to  the  Basque's  automobile,  and  waited. 

Presently,  Loustalot  appeared  warily  round  the  cor 
ner.  A  glance  at  his  automobile  showed  that  the  flat 
tire  had  been  shifted ;  whereupon  he  nodded  his  thanks 
to  the  Japanese,  who  stared  impassively  while  the 
Basque  climbed  into  his  car,  threw  out  his  low  gear, 
let  go  his  brakes,  and  coasted  silently  out  of  the  yard 
and  into  the  avenue.  The  hacienda  screened  him  from 
Pablo's  view  as  the  latter,  all  unconscious  of  what  was 
happening,  dozed  before  the  door  of  the  empty 
settlement-room.  Once  over  the  lip  of  the  mesa,  Lous 
talot  started  his  car  and  sped  down  the  San  Gregorio 
as  fast  as  he  dared  drive. 


XIV 


T710LLOWING  his  illuminating  interview  with  Pablo 
A  and  Loustalot,  John  Parker  returned  to  a  chair 
on  the  porch  patio,  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  contemplating  the  tangle  in  his  hitherto 
well-laid  plans.  An  orderly  and  methodical  man  al 
ways,  it  annoyed  him  greatly  to  discover  this  morning 
that  a  diabolical  circumstance  over  which  he  had  no 
control  and  which  he  had  not  remotely  taken  into  con 
sideration  should  have  arisen  to  embarrass  and  dis 
tress  him  and,  perchance,  plunge  him  into  litigation. 
Mrs.  Parker,  having  possessed  herself  of  some  fancy 
work,  took  a  seat  beside  him,  and,  for  the  space  of 
several  minutes,  stitched  on,  her  thoughts,  like  her 
husband's,  evidently  bent  upon  the  affairs  of  Miguel 
Farrel. 

"Who  is  this  gory  creature  Pablo  just  brought  in?" 
she  demanded,  finally. 

"His  name  is  Andre  Loustalot,  Kate,  and  he  is  a 
sheep-man  from  the  San  Carpojo  country —  a  Basque, 
I  believe.  He  hasn't  a  particularly  good  reputation  in 
San  Marcos  County,  but  he's  one  of  the  biggest  sheep 
men  in  the  state  and  a  heavy  depositor  in  the  bank  at 
El  Toro.  He  was  one  of  the  reasons  that  moved  me 
to  buy  the  Farrel  mortgage  from  the  bank." 

"Explain  the  reason,  John." 

"Well,  I  figured  that  eventually  I  would  have  to 

147 


148  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

foreclose  on  old  Don  Miguel  Farrel,  and  it  would  re 
quire  approximately  two  years  after  that  before  my 
irrigation  system  would  be  completed  and  the  valley 
lands  ready  for  colonization.  I  was  tolerably  certain  I 
would  never  restock  the  range  with  cattle,  and  I  knew 
Loustalot  would  buy  several  thousand  young  sheep 
and  run  them  on  the  Palomar,  provided  I  leased  the 
grazing-privilege  to  him  for  two  years  at  a  reasonable 
figure.  I  was  here,  under  authority  of  a  court  order, 
to  conserve  the  estate  from  waste,  and  my  attorney 
assured  me  that,  under  that  order,  I  had  authority  to 
use  my  own  judgment  in  the  administration  of  the 
estate,  following  the  order  of  foreclosure.  Now  young 
Farrel  shows  up  alive,  and  that  will  nullify  my  suit  for 
foreclosure.  It  also  nullifies  my  lease  to  Loustalot." 

"I'm  quite  certain  that  fiery  Don  Mike  will  never 
consent  to  the  lease,  John,"  his  wife  remarked. 

"If  he  declines  to  approve  the  lease,  I  shall  be  quite 
embarrassed  I  fear,  Kate.  You  see,  dear,  Loustalot 
bought  about  fifteen  thousand  sheep  to  pasture  on  the 
Palomar,  and  now  he's  going  to  find  himself  in  the 
unenviable  position  of  having  the  sheep  but  no  pas 
ture.  He'll  probably  sue  me  to  recover  his  loss,  if  any.'* 
any." 

"It's  too  bad  you  didn't  wait  ten  days  before  sign 
ing  that  lease,  John." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  a  trifle  testily.  "But  we  all  were 
convinced  that  young  Farrel  had  been  killed  in  Si 
beria." 

"But  you  hadn't  completed  your  title  to  this  ranch, 
John?" 

"You  wouldn't  murder  a  man  who  was  going  to 
commit  suicide,  would  you?  The  ranch  was  as  good 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  149 

as  mine.  If  I  had  waited  to  make  absolutely  certain 
Farrel  was  dead,  the  wait  might  have  cost  me  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  I  rented  the  ranch  at  fifty  cents 
per  acre." 

"One  hundred  thousand  acres,  more  or  less,  for  two 
years,  at  fifty  cents  per  acre  per  annum.  So,  instead 
of  making1  fifty  thousand  you've  last  that  sum,"  his 
wife  mused  aloud. 

"I've  lost  one  hundred  thousand,"  he  corrected.  "A 
one-year  lease  is  not  desirable;  Loustalot  was  my  sole 
client,  and  I've  lost  him  for  good." 

"Why  despair,  John?  I've  a  notion  that  if  you 
give  Don  Mike  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  confirm  Lousta 
lot  in  the  lease,  he  will  forget  his  enmity  and  agree  to 
the  lease.  That  would,  at  least,  prevent  a  law-suit." 

Parker's  face  brightened. 

"I  might  do  that,"  he  assented.  "The  title  will  re 
main  in  Farrel's  name  for  another  year,  and  I  have 
always  believed  that  half  a  loaf  was  better  than  none 
at  all.  If  young  Farrel  subscribes  to  the  same  senti 
ments,  all  may  yet  go  nicely." 

"Fifty  thousand  dollars  would  be  rather  a  neat  sum 
to  save  out  of  the  wreck,"  she  observed,  sagely.  "He 
seems  quite  a  reasonable  young  man." 

"I  like  him,"  Parker  declared.  "I  like  him  ever  so 
much." 

"So  do  I,  John.     He's  an  old-fashioned  gentleman/' 

"He's  a  he  man — the  sort  of  chap  I'd  like  to  see 
Kay  married  to  some  day." 

Mrs.  Parker  looked  searchingly  at  her  husband. 

"He  told  Kay  he  was  half  greaser,  John.  Would 
you  care  to  have  our  little  daughter  married  to  that 
sort  of  man?" 


150  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"How  like  a  woman !  You  always  take  the  personal 
viewpoint.  I  said  I'd  like  to  see  Kay  married  to  a 
he  man  like  Miguel  Farrel.  And  Farrel  is  not  half 
greaser.  A  greaser  is,  I  take  it,  a  sort  of  mongrel — 
Indian  and  Spanish.  Farrel  is  clean-strain  Caucasian, 
Kate.  He's  a  white  man — inside  and  out." 

"His  financial  situation  renders  him  impossible,  of 
course." 

"Naturally." 

"I  wish  it  were  otherwise,  Johnny.  Perhaps,  if  you 
were  a  little  easy  with  him — if  you  gave  him  a 
chance " 

"Kate,  I'd  always  be  afraid  of  his  easy-going  Latin 
blood.  If  I  should  put  him  on  his  feet,  he  would,  in 
all  probability,  stand  still.  He  might  even  walk  a 
little,  but  I  doubt  me  if  he'd  ever  do  a  Marathon." 

"John,  you're  wrong,"  Mrs.  Parker  affirmed,  with 
conviction.  "That  young  man  will  go  far.  What 
would  you  do  if  Kay  should  fall  in  love  with  him?" 

"I'm  sure  I  do  not  know,  Kate.  What  would  you  do  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  John.  Nevertheless,  it  is  interest 
ing  to  contemplate  the  situation.  If  he  should  win 
this  ranch  back  from  you,  he  could  have  her  with  my 
blessing." 

"Likewise  with  mine.  That  would  put  him  right  up  in 
the  go-getter  class,  which  is  the  class  I  want  to  see  Kay 
marry  into.  But  he  will  not  win  back  this  ranch,  Kate." 

"How  do  you  know  he  will  not?" 

"Because  I'm  going  to  do  everything  in  my  power 
to  keep  him  from  redeeming  it — and  I'm  neither  a 
mental  nor  a  financial  cripple." 

"Where  did  the  potato  baron  go?'*  Mrs.  Parker 
queried,  suddenly  changing  the  conversation. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  151 

"Down  into  the  valley,  I  imagine,  to  look  over  the 
land." 

"His  presence  here  is  not  agreeable  to  Mr.  Farrel, 
John.  I  think  you  might  manage  to  indicate  to  Mr. 
Okada  that  now,  Mr.  Farrel  having  returned  so  unex 
pectedly,  your  land  deal  must  necessarily  be  delayed 
for  a  year,  and  consequently,  further  negotiations  at 
this  time  are  impossible." 

"Yes;  I  think  I  had  better  give  him  a  strong  hint 
to  go  away.  It  irritates  Farrel  to  have  him  in  the 
house,  although  he'd  never  admit  it  to  us." 

"I  wonder,  John,  if  it  irritates  him  to  have  us  ja 
the  house?" 

"I  wanted  to  leave  to-day,  but  when  he  invited  as  to 
stay,  you  wouldn't  permit  me  to  consider  leaving," 
he  reminded  her. 

"But,  John,  his  manner  was  so  hearty  and  earnest 
we  had  to  accept.  Really,  I  think  we  might  have  hurt 
his  feelings  if  we  had  declined." 

"Kay  seemed  happy  to  stay." 

"That  is  another  reason  for  accepting  his  invita 
tion.  I  know  she'll  enjoy  it  so  here." 

"I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised,"  Parker  replied, 
dryly.  "She  has  helped  herself  to  the  car  and  driver 
in  order  to  aid  Farrel  at  my  expense." 

His  humorous  wife  smiled  covertly.  Parker  smoked 
contemplatively  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Then, 

"Here  comes  the  smiling  son  of  Nippon,  John,"  Mrs. 
Parker  remarked. 

The  potato  baron  enterc-d  the  secluded  patio  and 
sat  down  beside  them  on  the  porch.  With  a  prelimi 
nary  whistling  intake  of  breath,  he  remarked  that  it 
was  a  beautiful  day  and  then  proceeded,  without  delay,. 


152  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

to  disctiss  the  subject  closest  to  his  heart — the  fertile 
stretches  of  the  San  Gregorio  valley. 

Parker  squirmed  a  trifle  uneasily. 

"As  I  explained  to  you  this  morning,  Mr.  Okada," 
he  began,  "our  deal  has  become  a  trifle  complicated 
by  reason  of  the  wholly  unexpected  return  of  Mr. 
Miguel  Farrel." 

"Very  great  misfortune,"  Okada  sympathized. 
"Very  great  disappointment." 

Mrs.  Parker  favored  him  with  a  look  of  violent  dis 
like  and  departed  abruptly,  much  to  Okada's  relief. 
Immediately  he  drew  his  chair  close  to  Parker's. 

"You  zink  Mr.  Farrel  perhaps  can  raise  in  one 
year'  the  money  to  redeem  property?"  he  demanded. 

"I  i\aven't  the  slightest  information  as  to  his  money- 
raising  ability,  other  than  the  information  given  me 
by  that  man  Pablo  has  just  locked  up.  If,  as  Lous- 
talot  informed  me,  Farrel  has  a  judgment  against  him, 
he  is  extremely  liable  to  raise  a  hundred  thousand  or 
more  to-day,  what  with  funds  in  bank  and  about  fifteen 
thousand  sheep." 

"I  zink  Farrel  not  very  lucky  to-day  wiz  sheep,  Mr. 
Parker." 

"Well,  whether  he's  lucky  or  not,  he  has  our  deal 
blocked  for  on£  year.  I  can  do  nothing  now  until 
title  to  this  ranch  is  actually  vested  in  me.  I  am  mor 
ally  certain  Farrel  will  never  redeem  the  property, 
but — well,  you  realize"  my  predicament,  Mr.  Okada. 
Our  deal  is  definitely  hung  up  for  one  year." 

"Very  great  disappointment!"  Okada  replied  sadly. 
"Next  year,  I  zink  California  legislature  make  new  law 
so  Japanese  people  have  very  much  difficulty  to  buy 
land.  Attorneys  for  Japanese  Association  of  Cali- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  153 

fornia  very  much  frightened  because  they  know  Jap 
anese  treaty-rights  not  affected  by  such  law.  If  my 
people  can  buy  this  valley  before  that  law  comes  to 
make  trouble  for  Japanese  people,  I  zink  very  much 
better  for  everybody." 

"But,  my  dear  Mr.  Okada,  I  cannot  make  a  move 
until  Miguel  Farrel  fails  to  redeem  the  property  at 
the  expiration  of  the  redemption  period,  one  year 
hence." 

"Perhaps  that  sheeps-man  kill  Mr.  Farrel,"  Okada 
suggested,  hopefully,  "I  hoping,  for  sake  of  Japanese 
people,  that  sheeps-man  very  bad  luck  for  Mr.  Farrel." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  care  to  have  hirn  for  an  enemy. 
However,  I  dare  say  Farrel  knows  the  man  well  enough 
and  will  protect  himself  accordingly.  By  the  way, 
Farrel  is  violently  opposed  to  Japanese  colonization 
of  the  San  Gregorio." 

"You  zink  he  have  prejudice  against  Japanese 
people?" 

"I  know  it,  Mr.  Okada,  and,  for  that  reason,  and  the 
further  reason  that  our  deal  is  now  definitely  hung  up 
for  a  year,  I  suggest  that  you  return  to  El  Toro  with 
me  this  afternoon.  I  am  no  longer  master  here,  but 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you  as  my  guest  at  the 
hotel  in  El  Toro  while  you  are  making  your  investiga 
tions  of  the  property.  I  wish  to  avoid  the  possibility 
of  embarrassment  to  you,  to  Mr.  Farrel,  and  to  my 
family,  I  am  sure  you  understand  our  position,  Mr. 
Okada." 

The  potato  baron  nodded,  scowling  slightly. 


XV 


AT  a  point  where  the  road,  having  left  the  valley 
and  climbed  a  grade  to  a  mesa  that  gave  almost 
an  air-plane  view  of  the  San  Gregorio,  Miguel  Farrel 
looked  back  long  and  earnestly.  For  the  first  time 
since  entering  the  car,  at  Kay  Parker's  invitation,  he 
spoke. 

"It's  worth  it,"  he  announced,  with  conviction, 
"worth  a  fight  to  a  finish  with  whatever  weapons  come 

to  hand.  If  I By  the  holy  poker !  Sheep !  Sheep 

on  the  Rancho  Palomar!  Thousands  of  them.  Look! 
Over  yonder !" 

"How  beautiful  they  look  against  those  green  and 
purple  and  gold  hillsides  !'*  the  girl  exclaimed. 

"Usually  a  sheep  is  not  beautiful  to  a  cow-man,"  he 
reminded  her.  "However,  if  those  sheep  belong  to 
Loustalot,  they  constitute  the  fairest  sight  mine  eyes 
have  gazed  upon  to  date." 

"And  who  might  he  be?" 

"That  shaggy  thief  I  manhandled  a  few  minutes  ago. 
He's  a  sheep-man  from  the  San  Carpojo,  and  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century  he  has  not  dared  set  foot  on  the 
Palomar.  Your  father,  thinking  I  was  dead  and  that 
the  ranch  would  never  be  redeemed  after  foreclosure 
of  the  mortgage,  leased  the  grazing-privilege  to  Lous 
talot.  I  do  not  blame  him.  I  do  not  think  we  have 
more  than  five  hundred  head  of  cattle  on  the  ranch, 

154 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  155 

and  it  would  be  a  shame  to  waste  that  fine  green  feed." 
Suddenly  the  sad  and  somber  mien  induced  by  his  re 
cent  grief  fled  his  countenance.  lie  turned  to  her 
eagerly.  "Miss  Parker,  if  I  have  any  luck  worth  while 
to-day,  I  think  I  may  win  back  my  ranch." 

"I  wisH  you  could  win  it  back,  Don  Mike.  I  think 
we  all  wish  it." 

"I  hope  you  all  do."  He  laughed  joyously.  "My 
dear  Miss  Parker,  this  is  the  open  season  on  terrible 
practical  jokes.  I'm  no  judge  of  sheep  in  bulk,  but 
there  must  be  not  less  than  ten  thousand  over  on  that 
hillside,  and  if  the  title  to  them  is  vested  in  Andre 
Loustalot  to-day,  it  will  be  vested  in  me  about  a  month 
from  now.  I  shall  attach  them ;  they  will  be  sold  at  pub 
lic  auction  by  the  sheriff  to  satisfy  in  part  my  father  s 
old  judgment  against  Loustalot,  and  I  shall  bid  them 
{in — cheap.  Nobody  in  San  Marcos  County  will  bid 
against  me,  for  I  can  outbid  everybody  and  acquire  the 
sheep  without  having  to  put  up  a  cent  of  capital.  Oh, 
my  dear,  thoughtful,  vengeful  old  dad!  Dying,  he  as 
signed  that  judgment  to  me  and  had  it  recorded.  I 
came  across  it  in  his  effects  last  night. 

"What  are  sheep  worth,  Don  Mike?" 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,  but  I  should  say  that, 
by  next  fall,  those  sheep  should  be  worth  not  less  than 
six  dollars  a  head,  including  the  wool-clip.  They  will 
begin  to  lamb  in  February,  and  by  the  time  your 
father  dispossesses  me  a  year  hence,  the  increase  will 
amount  to  considerable.  That  flock  of  sheep  should  be 
worth  about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  by  the  time  I 
have  to  leave  the  Palomar,  and  I  know  I'm  going  to  col 
lect  at  least  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  cash  in  addition." 

He  drew  from  his  vest  pocket  a  check  for  that  sum, 


156  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

signed  by  Andre  Loustalot  and  drawn  in  favor  of  John 
Parker,  Trustee. 

"How  did  you  come  by  that  check?"  Kay  demanded. 
"It  belongs  to  my  father,  so,  if  you  do  not  mind,  Mr. 
Farrel,  I  shall  retain  it  and  deliver  it  to  my  father." 
Quite  deliberately,  she  folded  the  check  and  thrust  it 
into  her  hand-bag.  There  was  a  bright  spot  of  color 
in  each  cheek  as  she  faced  him,  awaiting  his  explana 
tion.  He  favored  her  with  a  Latin  shrug. 

"Your  father  will  not  accept  the  check,  Miss  Parker. 
Loustalot  came  to  the  hacienda  this  morning  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  handing  him  this  check,  but  your 
father  refused  to  accept  it  on  the  plea  that  the  lease 
he  had  entered  into  with  Loustalot  for  the  grazing- 
privilege  of  the  ranch  was  now  null  and  void." 

"How  do  you  know  all  this  ?    You  were  not  present." 

"No;  I  was  not  present,  Miss  Parker,  but — this 
check  is  present ;  those  sheep  are  present ;  Andre  Lous 
talot  was  present,  then  absent,  and  is  now  present 
again.  I  deduce  the  facts  in  the  case.  The  informa 
tion  that  I  was  alive  and  somewhere  around  the  ha 
cienda  gave  Loustalot  the  fright  of  his  unwashed  ex 
istence;  that's  why  he  appropriated  that  gray  horse 
and  fled  so  precipitately  when  he  discovered  his  auto 
mobile  had  a  flat  tire.  The  scoundrel  feared  to  take 
time  to  shift  wheels." 

"Why?" 

"He  had  the  promise  of  a  Farrel  that  a  great  mis 
fortune  would  overtake  him  if  he  ever  set  foot  on  the 
Rancho  Palomar.  And  he  knows  the  tribe  of  Farrel." 

"But  how  did  you  secure  possession  of  that  check, 
Den  Mike?" 

"Miss  Parker,  when  a  hard-boiled,  unconvicted  mur- 


THE.  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  157 

derer  and  grass-thief  borrows  my  horse  without  my 
permission,  and  I  ride  that  sort  of  man  down,  upset 
him,  sit  en  him,  and  choke  him,  the  instincts  of  my  an 
cestors,  the  custom  of  the  country,  common  sense,  and 
my  late  military  training  all  indicate  to  me  that  I 
should  frisk  him  for  deadly  weapons.  I  did  that.  Well, 
I  found  this  check  when  I  frisked  Loustalot  back  yon 
der.  And — if  a  poor  bankrupt  like  myself  may  be 
permitted  to  claim  a  right,  you  are  not  so  well  entitled 
to  that  check  as  I  am.  At  least,  I  claim  it  by  right  of 
discovery." 

"It  is  worthless  until  my  father  endorses  it,  Don! 
Mike." 

"His  clear,  bold  chirography  will  not  add  a  mite  to 
its  value,  Miss  Parker.  Checks  by  Andre  Loustalot  on 
the  First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro  aren't  going  to  be 
honored  for  some  little  time.  Why?  I'll  tell  you. 
Because  Little  Mike  the  Hustler  is  going  to  attach  his 
bank-account  this  bright  April  morning." 

She  laughed  happily. 

"You  haven't  wasted  much  time  in  vain  regret,  have 
you?"  she  teased  him.  "When  you  start  hustling  for 
a  living,  you're  a  man  what  hustles,  aren't  you?" 

"  'Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty,' "  he 
quoted.  "Those  sheep  weren't  visible  to  us  from  the 
floor  of  the  valley;  so  I  take  it  I  was  not  visible  to 
Loustalot's  shepherds  from  the  top  of  those  hills  when 
I  redeemed  my  father's  promise  to  their  employer. 
They'd  never  suspect  the  identity  of  either  of  us,  I  dare 
say.  Well,  Pablo  will  hold  him  mcomumcado  until 
I've  completed  my  investigations." 

"Why  are  you  incarcerating  him  in  your  private 
bastile,  Don  Mike?" 


158  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Well,  I  never  thought  to  profane  my  private  bastile 
with  that  fellow,  but  I  have  to  keep  liim  somewhere 
while  I'm  looking  up  his  assets." 

"But  he  may  sue  you  for  false  imprisonment,  kid 
napping,  or — or  something/' 

"Yes;  and  I  imagine  he'd  get  a  judgment  against 
me.  But  what  good  would  that  do  him?  I  haven't  any 
assets." 

"But  you're  going  to  acquire  some  rather  soon,  are 
you  not?" 

"I'll  give  all  my  money  to  my  friend,  Father  Dom 
inic,  to  do  with  as  he  sees  fit.  He'll  see  fit  to  loan  it 
all  back  to  me." 

"But  can  you  hide  ten  thousand  sheep  ?" 

"If  that  fellow  tries  to  levy  on  my  sheep,  I'll  about 
murder  him,"  Farrel  declared.  "But  we're  crossing 
our  bridges  before  we  come  to  them." 

"So  we  are,  Don  Mike.  Tell  me  all  about  this  ancient 
feud  with  Andre  Loustalot." 

"Certainly.  Twenty-five-odd  years  ago,  this  county 
was  pestered  by  a  gang  of  petty  cow-thieves.  They'd 
run  lots  of  from  ten  to  twenty  fat  steers  off  the  range 
at  a  time,  slaughter  them  in  El  Toro,  and  bury  the 
hides  to  conceal  the  identity  of  the  animals — the 
brands,  you  understand.  The  meat  they  would  peddle 
to  butchers  in  towns  along  the  railroad  line.  The 
ringleader  owned  a  slaughter-house  in  El  Toro,  and, 
for  a  long  time,  nobody  suspected  him — the  cattle  were 
driven  in  at  night.  Well,  my  father  grew  weary  of 
this  form  of  old-fashioned  profiteering,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  sheriff  of  San  Marcos  County  was  too 
great  a  simpleton  to  do  anything  about  it.  So  my 
father  stood  for  the  office  as  an  independent  candidate 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  159 

and  was  elected  on  a  platform  which  read,  'No  steers 
taken  off  this  ranch  without  permission  in  writing  from 
the  owner.'  Within  six  months,  dad  had  half  a  dozen 
of  oar  prominent  citizens  in  San  Quentin  Penitentiary ; 
then  he  resigned  the  office  to  his  chief  deputy,  Don 
Nicolas  Sandoval,  who  has  held  it  ever  since. 

"Now,  during  that  political  campaign,  which  was 
a  warm  and  bitter  one,  Andre  Loustalot  permitted 
himself  the  privilege  of  libeling  my  father.  He  de 
clared  in  a  public  address  to  a  gathering  of  voters  in 
the  San  Carpojo  valley  that  my  father  was  a  crook, 
the  real  leader  of  the  rustlers,  and  merely  seeking  the 
office  of  sheriff  in  order  to  protect  the  cow-thieves. 
When  the  campaign  ended,  my  father  swore  to  a  war 
rant  charging  Loustalot  with  criminal  libel  and  sued 
him  for  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  damages.  A  San 
Marcos  County  jury  awarded  my  father  a  judgment 
in  the  sum  prayed  for.  Loustalot  appealed  the  case  to 
the  Supreme  Court,  but  inasmuch  as  there  wasn't  the 
slightest  doubt  of  his  guilt,  the  higher  court  affirmed 
the  decision  of  the  Superior  Court. 

"Loustalot  was  a  poor  man  in  those  days.  He  was 
foreman  of  a  sheep  outfit,  with  an  interest  in  the  in 
crease  of  the  flock,  and  inasmuch  as  these  Basques  sel 
dom  reduce  their  deals  to  writing,  the  sheriff  could 
never  satisfy  himself  that  Loustalot  had  any  assets 
in  the  shape  of  sheep.  At  any  rate,  the  Basque  and 
his  employer  and  all  of  his  Basque  friends  denied  that 
Loustalot  had  any  assets. 

"For  twenty-five  years,  my  father  has,  whenever  the 
statute  of  limitations  threatened  to  kill  this  judgment, 
revived  it  by  having  Loustalot  up  on  an  order  of  court 
to  be  questioned  regarding  his  ability  to  meet  the  judg"- 


160  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ment;  every  once  in  a  while  my  father  would  sue  out 
a  new  writ  of  execution,  which  would  be  returned  un 
satisfied  by  the  sheriff.  Six  months  ago,  my  father  had 
the  judgment  revived  by  due  legal  process,  and,  for 
some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  assigned  it  to  me 
and  had  the  assignment  recorded.  Of  course,  when  I 
was  reported  killed  in  Siberia,  Loustalot's  attorneys 
naturally  informed  him  that  my  judgment  had  died 
with  me  unless  I  had  left  a  will  in  favor  of  my  father. 
But  when  my  father  died  intestate  and  there  were  no 
known  heirs,  Loustalot  doubtless  felt  that  at  last  the 
curse  had  been  lifted  and  probably  began  doing  busi 
ness  in  his  own  name.  He's  a  thrifty  fellow  and,  I  dare 
say,  he  made  a  great  deal  of  money  on  sheep  during 
the  war.  I  hope  he  has.  That  old  judgment  has  been 
accumulating  interest  at  seven  per  cent,  for  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  in  this  state  I  believe  the 
interest  is  compounded." 

"But  why  did  Loustalot  hate  your  father  so?"  the 
girl  queried. 

"We  had  good  fences  on  our  ranch,  but  somehow 
those  fences  always  needed  repairing  whenever  Andre 
Loustalot's  flock  wandered  over  from  the  San  Carpojo. 
In  this  state,  one  cannot  recover  for  trespass  unless  one 
keeps  one's  fences  in  repair — and  Loustalot  used  to 
trespass  on  our  range  quite  frequently  and  then  blame 
his  cussedness  on  our  fences.  Of  course,  he  broke  our 
fences  to  let  his  sheep  in  to  water  at  our  waterholes, 
which  was  very  annoying  to  us,  because  sheep  befoul  a 
range  and  destroy  it ;  they  eat  down  to  the  very  grass 
roots,  and  cattle  will  not  drink  at  a  water-hole  patron 
ized  by  sheep.  Well,  our  patience  was  exhausted  at 
last;  so  my  father  told  Pablo  to  put  out  saltpeter  at 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  161 

all  of  our  water-holes.  Saltpeter  is  not  harmful  to 
cattle  but  it  is  death  to  sheep,  and  the  only  way  we 
could  keep  Loustalot  off  our  range  without  resorting 
to  firearms  was  to  make  his  visits  unprofitable.  They 
were.  That  made  Loustalot  hate  us,  and  one  day,  over 
in  the  Agua  Caliente  basin,  when  Pablo  and  his  riders 
found  Loustalot  and  his  sheep  there,  they  rushed  about 
five  hundred  of  his  sheep  over  a  rocky  bench  and 
dropped  them  a  sheer  two  hundred  feet  into  a  canon. 
That  started  some  shooting,  and  Pablo's  brother  and 
my  first  cousin,  Juan  Galvez,  were  killed.  Loustalot, 
wounded,  escaped  on  the  pack-mule  belonging  to  his 
sheep  outfit,  and  after  that  he  and  my  father  didn't 
speak." 

Kay  turned  in  her  seat  and  looked  at  Farrel  curi 
ously. 

"If  you  were  not  so  desperately  situated  financially," 
she  wanted  to  know,  "would  you  continue  to  pursue 
this  man?" 

He  smiled  grimly. 

"Certainly.  My  father's  honor,  the  blood  of  my 
kinsman,  and  the  blood  of  a  faithful  servant  call  for 
justice,  however  long  delayed.  Also,  the  honor  of  my 
state  demands  it  now.  I  am  prepared  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  even  of  my  life,  and  grasp  eagerly  at  all 
legal  means — to  prevent  your  father  putting  through 
this  monstrous  deal  with  Okada." 

She  was  troubled  of  soul. 

"Of  course,"  she  pleaded  presently,  "you'll  play  the 
game  with  dad  as  fairly  as  he  plays  it  with  you." 

"I  shall  play  the  game  with  him  as  fairly  as  he  plays 
it  with  this  land  to  which  he  owes  allegiance,"  he  cor 
rected  her  sternly. 


XVI 


IT  was  eleven  o'clock  when  the  car  rolled  down  the 
main  street  of  El  Toro.  From  the  sidewalk,  sundry 
citizens,  of  diverse  shades  of  color  and  conditions  of 
servitude,  observing  Miguel  Farrel,  halted  abruptly 
and  stared  as  if  seeing  a  ghost.  Don  Mike  wanted  to 
shout  to  them  glad  words  of  greeting,  of  affectionate 
badinage,  after  the  fashion  of  that  easy-going  and 
democratic  community,  but  he  feared  to  make  the  girl 
at  his  side  conspicuous ;  so  he  contented  himself  by  un 
covering  gravely  to  the  women  and  waving  debonairly 
to  the  men.  This  constituting  ocular  evidence  that  he 
was  not  a  ghost  or  a  man  who  bore  a  striking  physical 
resemblance  to  one  they  mourned  as  dead,  the  men  so 
saluted  returned  his  greeting. 

The  few  who  had  recognized  him  as  he  entered  the 
town,  quickly,  by  their  cries  of  greeting,  roused  the 
loungers  and  idle  conversationalists  along  the  sidewalks 
further  down  the  street.  There  was  a  rush  to  shop 
doors,  a  craning  of  necks,  excited  inquiries  in  Spanish 
and  English ;  more  shouts  of  greeting.  A  gaunt,  hawk- 
faced  elderly  man,  with  Castilian  features,  rode  up  on  a 
bay  horse,  showed  a  sheriff's  badge  to  William,  the 
chauffeur,  and  informed  him  he  was  arrested  for  speed 
ing1.  Then  he  pressed  his  horse  close  enough  to  extend 
a  hand  to  Farrel. 

"Miguel,  my  boy,"  he  said  in  English,  out  of  defer- 

162 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  163 

ence  to  the  girl  in  the  car,  "this  is  a  very  great — a  very 
unexpected  joy.  We  have  grieved  for  you,  my  friend." 

His  faint  clipped  accent,  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  told 
Kay  that  this  man  was  one  of  Don  Miguel's  own  people. 
Farrel  clasped  the  proffered  hand  and  replied  to  him 
in  Spanish;  then,  remembering  his  manners,  he  pre 
sented  the  horseman  as  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval,  sheriff 
of  the  county.  Don  Nicolas  bent  low  over  his  horse's 
neck,  his  wide  gray  hat  clasped  to  his  gallant  heart. 

"You  will  forgive  the  emotion  of  a  foolish  old  man, 
Miss  Parker,"  he  said,  "but  we  of  San  Marcos  County 
love  this  boy." 

Other  friends  now  came  running;  in  a  few  minutes 
perhaps  a  hundred  men,  boys,  and  women  had  sur 
rounded  the  car.  struggling  to  get  closer,  vying  with 
each  other  to  greet  the  hero  of  the  San  Gregorio.  They 
babbled  compliments  and  jocularities  at  him;  they 
cheered  him  lustily;  with  homely  bucolic  wit  they 
jeered  his  army  record  because  they  were  so  proud  of 
it,  and  finally  they  began  a  concerted  cry  of :  "Speech ! 
Speech !  Speech !" 

Don  Mike  stood  up  in  the  tonneau  and  removed  his 
hat.  Instantly  silence  settled  over  the  crowd,  and 
Kay  thought  that  she  had  never  seen  a  more  perfect 
tribute  of  respect  paid  anyone.  He  spoke  to  them 
briefly,  with  a  depth  of  sentiment  only  possible  in  a  de 
scendant  of  two  of  the  most  sentimental  races  on  earth ; 
but  he  was  not  maudlin.  When  lie  had  concluded  his 
remarks,  he  repeated  them  in  Spanish  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  had  never  learned  English  very  well  or  at  all. 

And  now,  although  Kay  did  not  understand  a  word 
of  what  he  said,  she  realized  that  in  his  mother  tongue 
he  was  infinitely  more  tender,  more  touching,  more 


164  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

dramatic  than  he  could  possibly  be  in  English,  for  his 
audience  wagged  approving  heads  now  and  paid  him 
the  tribute  of  many  a  furtive  tear. 

Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  rode  his  horse  through  the 
crowd  presently  and  opened  a  path  for  the  car. 

"I'm  afraid  this  has  been  a  trifle  embarrassing  for 
you,  Miss  Parker,"  Farrel  remarked,  as  they  proceeded 
down  the  street.  "I  shall  not  recognize  any  more  of 
them.  I've  greeted  them  all  in  general,  and  some  day 
next  week  I'll  come  to  town  and  greet  them  in  detail. 
They  were  all  glad  I  came  back,  though,  weren't  they?" 
he  added,  with  a  boy's  eagerness.  "Lord,  but  I  was 
glad  to  see  them !" 

"I  can  hardly  believe  you  are  the  same  man  I  saw 
manhandling  your  enemy  an  hour  ago,"  she  declared. 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  with  a  careless  shrug,  "fighting  and 
loving  are  the  only  two  worth-while  things  in  life. 
Park  in  front  of  the  court-house,  William,  please." 

He  excused  himself  to  Kay  and  ran  lightly  up  the 
steps.  Fifteen  minutes  later,  he  returned. 

"I  have  a  writ  of  execution,"  he  declared.  "Now  to 
find  the  sheriff  and  have  him  serve  it." 

They  located  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  at  the  post- 
office,  one  leg  cocked  over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and 
the  El  Toro  Sentinel  spread  on  his  knee. 

"Father's  old  business  with  the  Basque,  Don  Nico 
las,"  Farrel  informed  him.  "He  has  money  deposited  in 
his  own  name  in  the  First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro." 

"I  have  grown  old  hunting  that  fellow's  assets,  Mig 
uel,  my  boy,"  quoth  Don  Nicolas.  "If  I  can  levy  on  a 
healthy  bank-account,  I  shall  feel  that  my  life  has  not 
been  lived  in  vain." 

He  folded  his  newspaper,  uncoiled  his  leg  from  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  165 

pommel,  and  started  up  the  street  at  the  dignified  fast 
walk  he  had  taught  his  mount.  Farrel  returned  to  the 
car  and,  with  Kay,  arrived  before  the  portals  of  the 
bank  a  few  minutes  in  advance  of  the  sheriff,  just  in 
time  to  see  Andre  Loustalot  leap  from  his  automobile, 
dash  up  the  broad  stone  steps,  and  fairly  hurl  himself 
into  the  bank. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  permit  him  to  with 
draw  his  money  and  have  Don  Nicolas  attach  it  on  his 
person  or  not.  Perhaps  that  would  be  dangerous," 
Miguel  remarked.  He  stepped  calmly  out  of  the  car, 
assisted  Kay  to  alight,  and,  with  equal  deliberation,  en 
tered  the  bank  with  the  girl. 

"Now  for  some  fun,"  he  whispered.  "Behold  the 
meanest  man  in  America — myself !" 

Loustalot  was  at  the  customers'  desk  writing  a  check 
to  cash  for  his  entire  balance  in  bank.  Farrel  permit 
ted  him  to  complete  the  drawing  of  the  check,  watched 
the  Basque  almost  trot  toward  the  paying-teller's  win 
dow,  and  as  swiftly  trotted  after  him. 

"All — everything!"  Loustalot  panted,  and  reached 
over  the  shoulders  of  two  customers  in  line  ahead  of 
him.  But  Don  Miguel  Farrel's  arm  was  stretched  forth 
also ;  his  long  brown  fingers  closed  over  the  check  and 
snatched  it  from  the  Basque's  hand  as  he  murmured 
soothingly : 

"You  will  have  to  await  your  turn,  Loustalot.  For 
your  bad  manners,  I  shall  destroy  this  check."  And 
he  tore  the  signature  off  and  crumpled  the  little  slip  of 
paper  into  a  ball,  which  he  flipped  into  Loustalot's 
brutal  face. 

The  Basque  stood  staring  at  him,  inarticulate  with 
fury ;  Don  Mike  faced  his  enemy  with  a  bantering,  pres- 


166  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

cient  little  smile.  Then,  with  a  great  sigh  that  was  in 
reality  a  sob,  Loustalot  abandoned  his  primal  impulse 
to  hurl  himself  upon  Farrel  and  attempt  to  throttle; 
instead,  he  ran  back  to  the  customers'  desk  and  started 
scribbling  another  check.  Thereupon,  the  impish  Far 
rel  removed  the  ink,  and  when  Loustalot  moved  to  an 
other  ink-well,  Farrel's  hand  closed  over  that.  Help 
less  and  desperate,  Loustalot  suddenly  began  to  weep; 
uttering  peculiar  mewing  cries,  he  clutched  at  Farrel 
with  the  fury  of  a  gorilla.  Don  Mike  merely  dodged 
round  the  desk,  and  continued  to  dodge  until  out  of 
the  tail  of  his  eye,  he  saw  the  sheriff  enter  the  bank  and 
stop  at  the  cashier's  desk.  Loustalot,  blinded  with 
tears  of  rage,  failed  to  see  Don  Nicolas ;  he  had  vision 
only  for  Don  Mike,  whom  he  was  still  pursuing  round 
the  customers'  desk. 

The  instant  Don  Nicolas  served  his  writ  of  attach 
ment,  the  cashier  left  his  desk,  walked  round  in  back  of 
the  various  tellers'  cages,  and  handed  the  writ  to  the 
paying  teller;  whereupon  Farrel,  pretending  to  be 
frightened,  ran  out  of  the  bank.  Instantly,  Loustalot 
wrote  his  check  and  rushed  again  to  the  paying-teller's 
window. 

"Too  late,  Mr.  Loustalot.  Your  account  has  been 
attached,"  that  functionary  informed  him. 

Meanwhile,  Don  Nicolas  had  joined  his  friend  on 
the  sidewalk. 

"Here  is  his  automobile,  Don  Nicolas,"  Farrel  said. 
"I  think  we  had  better  take  it  away  from  him." 

Don  Nicolas  climbed  calmly  into  the  driver's  seat, 
filled  out  a  blank  notice  of  attachment  under  that  cer 
tain  duly  authorized  writ  which  his  old  friend's  son  had 
handed  him,  and  waited  until  Loustalot  came  dejectedly 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  167 

down  the  bank  steps  to  the  side  of  the  car;  whereupon 
Don  Nicolas  served  him  with  the  fatal  document, 
stepped  on  the  starter,  and  departed  for  the  county 
garage,  where  the  car  would  be  stored  until  sold  at 
auction. 

"Who  let  you  out  of  my  calaboose,  Loustalot  ?"  Don 
Mike  queried  amiably. 

"That  high-toned  Jap  friend  of  Parker's,"  the 
Basque  replied,  with  malicious  enjoyment. 

"I'm  glad  it  wasn't  Mr.  Parker.  Well,  you  stayed 
there  long  enough  to  serve  my  purpose.  By  the  way, 
your  sheep  are  trespassing  again." 

"They  aren't  my  sheep." 

"Well,  if  you'll  read  that  document,  you'll  see  that 
all  the  sheep  on  the  Rancho  Palomar  at  this  date  are 
attached,  whether  they  belong  to  you  or  not.  Now,  a 
word  of  warning  to  you,  Loustalot :  Do  not  come  on 
the  Rancho  Palomar  for  any  purpose  whatsoever. 
Understand?" 

Loustalot's  glance  met  his  unflinchingly  for  fully 
ten  seconds,  and,  in  that  glance,  Kay  thought  she  de 
tected  something  tigerish. 

"Home,  William,"  she  ordered  the  driver,  and  they 
departed  from  El  Toro,  leaving  Andre  Loustalot  stand 
ing  on  the  sidewalk  staring  balefully  after  them. 

They  were  half-way  home  before  Don  Mike  came 
out  of  the  reverie  into  which  that  glance  of  Loustalot's 
had,  apparently,  plunged  him. 

"Some  day  very  soon,"  he  said,  "I  shall  have  to  kill 
that  man  or  be  killed.  And  I'm  sorry  my  guest,  Mr. 
Okada,  felt  it  incumbent  upon  himself  to  interfere.  If, 
between  them,  they  have  hurt  Pablo,  I  shall  certainly 
reduce  the  extremely  erroneous  Japanese  census  rec 
ords  in  California  by  one." 


XVII 

JOHN  PARKER  and  his  wife,  with  the  unsuspecting 
Okada,  were  lingering  over  a  late  luncheon  when 
Kay  and  Don  Mike  entered  the  dining-room. 

"Well,  you  bold  Spanish  cavalier,  what  do  you  mean 
by  running  away  with  my  little  girl?"  Mrs.  Parker  de 
manded. 

Before  Farrel  could  reply,  Kay  answered  for  him. 

"We've  had  quite  a  wild  and  woolly  Western  adven 
ture,  mother  dear.  Have  you  seen  Pablo  since  we  left 
together?" 

"I  have,"  the  lady  replied.  "He  had  Monsieur  Lous- 
talot  in  charge,  and  related  to  us  the  details  of  the  ad 
venture  up  to  the  moment  you  and  Mr.  Farrel  left  him 
with  the  prisoner  while  you  two  continued  on  to  El 
Toro.  What  happened  in  El  Toro?" 

"Don  Mike  succeeded  in  attaching  Loustalot's  bank- 
account,"  Kay  informed  the  company.  "The  loot  will 
probably  amount  to  something  over  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars." 

"I  should  say  that  isn't  a  half-bad  stipend  to  draw 
for  your  first  half-day  pursuit  of  the  nimble  cart 
wheel  of  commerce,"  Parker  suggested. 

Mrs,  Parker  pursed  her  lips  comically. 

"The  boy  is  clever,  John.  I  knew  it  the  moment  I 
znet  him  this  morning.  Felicitations,  Don  Miguel. 

168 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  •  169 

John  intends  to  strip  you  down  to  your  birthday  suit — 
fairly,  of  course — so  keep  up  the  good  work,  and  every 
thing  may  still  turn  out  right  for  you.  I'll  cheer  for 
you,  at  any  rate." 

"Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Parker."  Don  Miguel 
slipped  into  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "I  have 
also  attached  Loustalot's  new  automobile." 

"You  Shylock!  What  else?"  Mrs.  Parker  demanded 
eagerly. 

"About  ten  thousand  sheep,  more  or  less.  I  attached 
these  on  suspicion,  although  the  burden  of  proving  that 
Loustalot  owns  them  will  be  upon  me.  However,"  he 
concluded,  with  a  bright  glance  at  Parker,  "I  believe 
that  can  readily  be  accomplished — with  your  aid." 

"I  shall  be  the  poorest  witness  in  the  world,  Mr. 
Farrel." 

"Well,  I  shall  see  to  it,  Mr.  Parker,  that  you  are 
given  an  opportunity  to  tell  the  judge  of  the  Superior 
Court  in  El  Toro  why  Loustalot  called  on  you  this 
morning,  why  a  great  band  of  sheep  is  trespassing  on 
the  Rancho  Palomar,  why  Loustalot  drew  a  check  in 
your  favor  for  fifty  thousand  dollars,  why  you  declined 
to  take  it,  what  you  said  to  Loustalot  this  morning  to 
ca7ise  him  to  steal  one  of  my  horses  in  his  anxiety  to 
get  off  the  ranch,  why  your  attorneys  drew  up  a  cer 
tain  lease  of  the  grazing-privilege  to  Loustalot,  and 
why  the  deal  fell  through." 

Parker  flushed. 

"Can  you  produce  that  fifty- thousand-dollar  check? 
I  happen  to  know  it  has  not  been  cashed." 

"No,  I  cannot,  Mr.  Parker." 

Kay  opened  her  purse  and  tossed  the  check  across  to 
her  father.  * 


170  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"It  was  drawn  in  your  favor,  dad,"  she  informed 
him;  "so  I  concluded  it  was  your  property,  and  when 
Mr.  Farrel  came  by  it — ah,  illegally — and  showed  it  to 
me,  I  retained  it." 

"Good  girl!  Mr.  Farrel,  have  you  any  objection  to 
my  returning  this  check?" 

"Not  the  slightest.  It  has  served  its  purpose.  How 
ever,  you  will  have  to  wait  until  you  meet  Loustalot 
somewhere  outside  the  boundaries  of  the  Rancho  Palo- 
mar,  sir.  I  had  comforted  myself  with  the  thought 
that  he  was  safe  under  lock  and  key  here,  but,  to  my 
vast  surprise,  I  met  him  in  the  bank  at  El  Toro  mak 
ing  futile  efforts  to  withdraw  his  cash  before  I  could 
attach  the  account.  The  confounded  ingrate  informs 
me  that  Mr.  Okada  turned  him  loose." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  disapproval  in  the 
glance  which  Parker  turned  upon  Okada. 

"Is  this  true,  Mr.  Okada?" 

"It  is  not  true,"  Okada  replied  promptly.  "I  know 
nozzing  about.  Nozzing." 

"Well,  Pablo  thinks  it  is  true,  Mr.  Okada."  Don 
Miguel's  voice  was  unruffled,  his  manner  almost  be 
nignant.  "The  old  man  is  outside,  and  absolutely 
broken-hearted.  His  honor  appears  to  be  quite  gone. 
I  imagine,"  Don  Mike  continued,  with  a  fleeting  and 
whimsical  glance  at  the  potato  baron,  "that  he  has 
evolved  some  primitive  plan  for  making  his  honor  whole 
again.  Direct  methods  always  did  appeal  to  Pablo." 

"Mr.  Farrel,"  John  Parker  began,  "I  regret  this 
incident  more  than  I  can  say.  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  directly  or  indi 
rectly " 

"John,  for  goodness'  sake,  old  dear,  give  Mr.  Farrel 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  171 

credit  for  some  common  sense.  He  knows  very  well  you 
wouldn't  break  bread  with  him  and  then  betray  him. 
Don't  you,  Mr.  Farrel?"  Mrs.  Parker  pleaded. 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Parker's  assurance  is  wholly  unnec 
essary,  Mrs.  Parker." 

"Mr.  Okada  is  leaving  this  afternoon,"  Parker  has 
tened  to  assure  him. 

"Mr.  Okada  shows  commendable  prudence."  Don 
Mike's  tones  were  exceedingly  dry. 

Okada  rose  and  bowed  his  squinch-owl  bow. 

"I  very  sorry,"  he  sputtered.  "I  zink  that  man 
Pablo  one  big  liar.  'Scuse,  please ;  I  go." 

"If  he  hadn't  called  Pablo  a  liar,"  Don  Mike  mur 
mured  plaintively,  "I  should  have  permitted  him  to 
march  out  with  the  honors  of  war.  As  the  matter 
stands  now,  however,  I  invite  all  of  you  to  listen  at 
tentively.  In  a  few  minutes  you're  going  to  hear  some 
thing  that  will  remind  you  of  the  distant  whine  of  a 
sawmill.  After  all,  Pablo  is  a  poor  old  fellow  who 
lives  a  singularly  humdrum  existence." 

"Ah,  yes;  let  the  poor  fellow  have  his  simple  little 
pleasures,"  Mrs.  Parker  pleaded.  "  'All  work  and  no 
play' — you  know,  Don  Miguel." 

"My  dear,"  Parker  answered  testily,  "there  are  occa 
sions  when  your  sense  of  humor  is  positively  oppressive." 

"Very  well,  John ;  I'll  be  serious."  His  wife  turned 
to  Farrel.  "Mr.  Farrel,"  she  continued,  "while  you 
were  away,  I  had  a  very  bright  idea.  You  are  much 
too  few  in  the  family  for  such  a  large  house,  and  it 
occurred  to  me  that  you  might  care  to  lease  the  Palo- 
mar  hacienda  to  us  for  a  year.  I'm  so  weary  of  hotels 
and  equally  weary  of  a  town  house,  with  its  social  ob 
ligations  and  the  insolence  of  servants — particularly 


178  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

cooks.  John  needs  a  year  here,  and  we  would  so  like 
to  remain  if  it  could  be  arranged.  Your  cook,  Caro 
lina,  is  not  the  sort  that  leaves  one's  employ  in  the 
middle  of  a  dinner-party." 

"Would  five  hundred  dollars  a  month  for  the  house 
and  the  use  of  Carolina  and  three  saddle-horses  inter 
est  you,  Mr.  Farrel?  From  our  conversation  of  this 
morning,  I  judge  you  have  abandoned  hope  of  redeem 
ing  the  property,  and  during  the  year  of  the  redemp 
tion  period,  six  thousand  dollars  might — ah — er 

"Well,  it  would  be  better  than  a  poke  in  the  eye  with 
a  sharp  stick,"  Don  Miguel  replied  genially.  "I  need 
the  money ;  so  I  accept — but  with  certain  reservations. 
I  like  Carolina's  cooking,  too ;  I  have  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  head  of  cattle  to  look  after,  and  I'd  like  to  re 
serve  one  room,  my  place  at  this  table,  and  my  posi 
tion  as  master  of  Palomar.  Of  course,  I'm  not  so  opti 
mistic  as  to  think  you  folks  would  accept  of  my  hos 
pitality  for  a  year,  so  I  suggest  that  you  become  what 
our  British  cousins  call  'paying  guests,'  albeit  I  had 
never  expected  to  fall  low  enough  to  make  such  a  das 
tardly  proposition.  Really,  it  abases  me.  It's  never 
been  done  before  in  this  house." 

"I  declare  you're  the  most  comfortable  young  man 
to  have  around  that  I  have  ever  known.  Isn't  he, 
Kay?"  Mrs.  Parker  declared. 

"I  think  you're  very  kind,"  the  girl  assured  him. 
"And  I  think  it  will  be  very  delightful  to  be  paying 
guests  to  such  a  host,  Don  Mike  Farrel." 

"Then  it's  settled,"  Parker  announced,  much  relieved. 

"And  let  us  here  highly  resolve  that  we  shall  always 
be  good  friends  and  dwell  together  in  peace,"  Kay  sug 
gested. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  173 

"I  made  that  resolve  when  you  met  me  at  the  gate 
last  night,  Miss  Parker.  If  ark!  Methinks  I  hear  a 
young  riot.  Well,  we  cannot  possibly  have  anj  inter 
est  in  it,  and,  besides,  we're  talking  business  now.  Mr. 
Parker,  there  isn't  the  slightest  hope  of  my  earning 
sufficient  money  to  pay  the  mortgage  you  hold  against 
this  ranch  of  mine,  so  I  have  resolved  to  gamble  for  it 
whenever  and  wherever  I  can.  You  have  agreed  to  pay 
me  six  thousand  dollars,  in  return  for  which  I  guaran 
tee  to  feed  you  and  your  family  and  servants  well,  and 
house  you  comfortably  and  furnish  three  saddle-horses, 
with  saddles  and  bridles,  for  a  period  of  one  year. 
Understand?" 

"Understood." 

Don  Miguel  Farrel  took  two  dice  out  of  liis  pocket 
and  cuddled  them  in  his  palm. 

"I'll  roll  you  the  bones,  one  flop,  twelve  thousand  dol 
lars  or  nothing,  sir,"  he  challenged. 

"But  if  I  win " 

"You  want  to  know  if  I  am  in  a  position  to  support 
you  all  for  one  year  if  I  lose?  I  am.  There  are  cattle 
enough  on  the  ranch  to  guarantee  that." 

"Well,  while  these  little  adventures  are  interesting, 
Mr.  Farrel,  the  fact  is  I've  alwa}^s  made  it  a  rule  not 
to  gamble." 

"Listen  to  the  hypocrite!"  his  wife  almost  shouted. 
"Gambled  every  day  of  his  life  for  twenty-five  years 
on  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange,  and  now  he  has  the 
effrontery  to  make  a  statement  like  that!  John 
Parker,  roll  them  bones !" 

"Not  to-day,"  he  protested.  "This  isn't  my  lucky  day." 

"Well,  it's  mine,"  the  good  soul  retorted.  "Miguel 
— you'll  pardon  my  calling  you  by  your  first  name: 


174  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Miguel,  but  since  I  was  bound  to  do  so  sooner  or  later, 
we'll  start  now — Miguel,  I'm  in  charge  of  the  domestic 
affairs  of  the  Parker  family,  and  I've  never  known  a 
time  when  this  poor  tired  old  business  man  didn't  honor 
my  debts.  Roll  'em,  Mike,  and  test  your  luck." 

"Mother!"  Kay  murmured  reproachfully. 

"Nonsense,  dear!  Miguel  is  the  first  natural  gentle 
man,  the  first  regular  young  man  I've  met  in  years. 
I'm  for  him,  and  I  want  him  to  know  it.  Are  you  for 
me,  Miguel?" 

"All  the  way !"  Don  Mike  cried  happily. 

"There!"  the  curious  woman  declared  triumphantly. 
"I  knew  we  were  going  to  be  good  friends.  What  do  I 
see  before  me?  As  I  live,  a  pair  of  box  cars." 

"Mother,  wh^re  did  you  learn  such  slang?"  her 
daughter  pleaded. 

"From  the  men  your  non-gambling  father  used  to 
bring  home  to  play  poker  and  shoot  craps,"  she  almost 
shouted.  "Well,  let  us  see  if  I  can  roll  two  sixes  and 
tie  the  score.  I  can !  What's  more,  I  do !  Miguel,  are 
these  dice  college-bred  ?  Ah !  Old  Lady  Parker  rolls  a 
wretched  little  pair  of  bull's-eyes !" 

Don  Miguel  took  the  dice  and  rolled — a  pair  of  deuces. 

"I'm  going  to  make  big  money  operating  a  boarding- 
house,"  he  informed  the  lady. 

"  'Landlord,  fill  the  flowing  bowl  until  it  doth  flow 
over,'  "  she  sang  gaily.  "John,  you  owe  Miguel  twelve 
thousand  dollars,  payable  at  the  rate  of  one  thousand 
dollars  a  month  for  twelve  months.  Have  your  lawyer 
in  El  Toro  draw  the  lease  this  afternoon." 

Parker  glanced  at  her  with  a  broaoThint  of  belliger 
ence  in  his  keen  gray  eyes. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  175 

"My  dear,"  he  rasped,  "I  wish  you  would  take  me 
seriously  once  in  a  while.  For  twenty-five  years  I've 
tried  to  keep  step  with  you,  and  I've  failed.  One  of 
these  bright  days  I'm  going  to  strike." 

"I  recall  three  occasions  when  you  went  on  strike, 
John,  and  refused  to  accept  my  orders,"  the  mischie 
vous  woman  retorted  sweetly.  "At  the  conclusion  of 
the  strike,  you  couldn't  go  back  to  work.  Miguel,  three 
separate  times  that  man  has  declined  to  cease  money- 
making  long  enough  to  play,  although  I  begged  him 
with  tears  in  my  eyes.  And  I'm  not  the  crying  kind, 
either.  And  every  time  he  disobeyed,  he  blew  up. 
Miguel,  he  came  home  to  me  as  hysterical  as  a  high- 
school  girl,  wept  on  my  shoulder,  said  he'd  kill  himself 
if  he  couldn't  get  more  sleep,  and  then  surrendered  and 
permitted  me  to  take  him  away  for  six  months. 
Strange  to  relate,  his  business  got  along  very  nicely 
without  him.  Am  I  not  right,  Kay?" 

"You  are,  mother  dear.  Dad  reminds  me  of  a  horse 
at  a  livery-stable  fire.  You  rescue  him  from  the  flames, 
but  the  instant  you  let  go  his  halter-shank,  he  dashes 
into  the  burning  barn."  She  winked  ever  so  slightly  at 
Farrel.  "Thanks  to  you,  Don  Mike,"  she  assured  him, 
"father's  claws  are  clipped  for  one  year;  thanks  to 
you  again,  we  now  have  a  nice,  quiet  place  to  incar 
cerate  him." 

Farrel  could  see  that  John  Parker,  while  outwardly 
appearing  to  enjoy  this  combined  attack  against  him, 
was  secretly  furious.  And  Don  Mike  knew  why.  His 
pride  as  a  business  man  was  being  cruelly  lacerated ;  he 
had  foolishly  crawled  out  on  the  end  of  a  limb,  and 
now  there  was  a  probability,  although  a  remote  one, 


176  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

that  Miguel  Farrel  would  saw  off  the  limb  before  he 
could  crawl  back. 

"Perhaps,  Mr.  Farrel,"  he  replied,  with  a  heroic  at 
tempt  at  jocularity,  "you  will  understand  now  that  it 
was  not  altogether  a  cold  hard  heart  that  prompted 
me  to  decline  your  request  for  a  renewal  of  the  mort 
gage  this  morning.  I  couldn't  aff ord  to.  I  had  agreed 
to  gamble  one  million  dollars  that  you  were  thoroughly 
and  effectually  dead — I  couldn't  see  one  chance  in  a 
million  where  this  ranch  would  get  away  from  me." 

"Well,  do  not  permit  yourself  to  become  down 
hearted,  Mr.  Parker,"  Don  Mike  assured  him  whim 
sically.  "I  cannot  see  one  chance  in  a  million  where 
you  are  going  to  lose  it." 

"Thank  you  for  the  heartening  effect  of  those  words, 
Mr.  Farrel." 

"I  think  I  understand  the  reason  underlying  all  this 
speed,  Mr.  Parker.  You  and  Okada  feared  that  next 
year  the  people  of  this  state  will  so  amend  their  faulty 
anti-alien  land  law  of  1913  that  it  will  be  impossible  for 
any  Oriental  to  own  or  lease  California  land  then. 
So  you  proceeded  with  your  improvements  during  the 
redemption  period,  confident  that  the  ranch  would 
never  be  redeemed,  in  order  that  you  might  be  free  to 
deal  with  Okada  before  the  new  law  went  into  effect. 
Okada  would  not  deal  with  you  until  he  was  assured  the 
water  could  be  gotten  on  the  land." 

"Pa's  thrown  out  at  first  base !"  Mrs.  Parker  shrilled. 
"Poor  old  pa !" 

Don  Mike's  somber  black  eyes  flashed  with  mirth. 

"I  understand  now  why  you  leased  the  hacienda  and 
why  that  twelve-thousand-dollar  board  bill  hurt,"  he 
murmured.  He  turned  to  Kay  and  her  mother.  "Why 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  177 

the  poor  unfortunate  man  is  forced  to  remain  at  the 
Rancho  Palomar  in  order  to  protect  his  bet."  His 
thick  black  brows  lifted  piously.  "Don't  cheer,  boys," 
he  cried  tragically ;  "the  poor  devil  is  going  fast  now ! 
Is  there  anybody  present  who  remembers  a  prayer  or 
who  can  sing  a  hymn?" 

Kay's  adorable  face  twitched  as  she  suppressed  a 
chuckle  at  her  father's  expense,  but  now  that  Parker 
was  being  assailed  by  all  three,  his  loyal  wife  decided 
to  protect  him. 

"Well,  Johnny's  a  shrewd  gambler  after  all,"  she 
declared.  "If  you  do  not  redeem  the  ranch,  he  will 
get  odds  of  two  and  a  half  to  one  on  his  million-dollar 
bet  and  clean  up  in  a  year.  With  water  on  the  lands 
of  the  San  Gregorio,  Okada's  people  will  pay  five  hun 
dred  dollars  an  acre  cash  for  the  fifty  thousand  acres." 

"I  grant  you  that,  Mrs.  Parker,  but  in  the  meantime 
he  will  have  increased  tremendously  the  value  of  all  of 
my  land  in  the  San  Gregorio  valley,  and  what  is  to  pre 
vent  me,  nine  months  from  now,  from  floating  a  new 
loan  rather  handily,  by  reason  of  that  increased  valu 
ation,  paying  off  Mr.  Parker's  mortgage  and  garner 
ing  for  myself  that  two  and  a  half  million  dollars'  profit 
you  speak  of?" 

"I  fear  you  will  have  to  excuse  us  from  relishing  the 
prospect  of  that  joke,  Don  Mike,"  Kay  murmured. 

"Work  on  that  irrigation  project  will  cease  on  Sat 
urday  evening,  Mr.  Farrel,"  Parker  assured  his  host. 

Nevertheless,  Farrel  observed  that  his  manner  belied 
his  words ;  obviously  he  was  ill  at  ease.  For  a  moment, 
the  glances  of  the  two  men  met ;  swift  though  that  visu 
al  contact  was,  each  read  in  the  other's  glance  an  un 
faltering  decision.  There  would  be  no  surrender. 


178  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

The  gay  mood  into  which  Mrs.  Parker's  humorous 
sallies  had  thrown  Farrel  relaxed;  there  came  back  to 
him  the  memory  of  some  graves  in  the  valley,  and  his 
dark,  strong  face  was  somber  again.  Of  a  sudden, 
despite  his  victory  of  the  morning,  he  felt  old  for  all 
his  twenty-eight  years — old  and  sad  and  embittered, 
lonely,  futile  and  helpless. 

The  girl,  watching  him  closely,  saw  the  light  die  out 
in  his  face,  saw  the  shadows  come,  as  when  a  thunder 
cloud  pas-ses  between  the  sun  and  a  smiling  valley.  His 
chin  dropped  a  little  on  his  breast,  and  for  perhaps  ten 
seconds  he  was  silent;  by  the  far-away  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  Kay  knew  he  was  seeing  visions,  and  that  they 
were  not  happy  ones. 

Instinctively  her  hand  crept  round  the  corner  of  the 
table  and  touched  his  arm  lightly.  Her  action  was  the 
result  of  impulse;  almost  as  soon  as  she  had  touched 
him,  she  withdrew  her  hand  in  confusion. 

But  her  mother  had  noticed  the  movement,  and  a 
swift  glance  toward  her  husband  drew  from  him  the 
briefest  of  nods,  the  most  imperceptible  of*  shrugs. 

"Come,  Johnny  dear,"  she  urged,  and  her  voice  had  lost 
its  accustomed  shrillness  now;  "let  us  go  forth  and  see 
what  has  happened  to  the  Little  Old  Man  of  the  Spuds." 

He  followed  her  outside  obediently,  and  arm  in  arm 
they  walked  around  the  patio  toward  the  rear  gate. 

"Hello !"  he  murmured  suddenly,  and,  with  a  firm 
hand  under  her  chin,  he  tilted  her  handsome  face  up 
ward.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  "What  now?"  he 
demanded  tenderly.  "How  come,  old  girl?" 

"Nothing,  John.  I'm  just  an  old  fool — laughing 
when  I'm  not  weeping  and  weeping  when  I  ought  to  be 
laughing." 


XVIII 

DON  MIKE'S  assumption  that  Pablo  would  seek 
balm  for  his  injured  feelings  at  the  expense  of 
the  potato  baron  was  one  born  of  a  very  intimate  knowl 
edge  of  the  mental  processes  of  Pablo  and  those  of  his 
breed.  And  Pablo,  on  that  fateful  day,  did  not  dis 
appoint  his  master's  expectations.  Old  he  was,  and 
stiff  and  creaky  of  joint,  but  what  he  lacked  in  physical 
prowess  he  possessed  in  guile.  Forbidden  to  follow  his 
natural  inclination,  which  was  to  stab  the  potato 
baron  frequently  and  fatally  with  a  businesslike  dirk 
which  was  never  absent  from  his  person  except  when 
he  slept,  Pablo  had  recourse  to  another  artifice  of  his 
peculiar  calling — to  wit,  the  rawhide  riata. 

As  Okada  emerged  from  the  dining-room  into  the 
patio,  Pablo  entered  from  the  rear  gate,  riata  in  hand ; 
as  the  Japanese  crossed  the  garden  to  his  room  in  the 
opposite  wing  of  the  hacienda,  Pablo  made  a  deft  little 
cast  and  dropped  his  loop  neatly  over  the  potato 
baron's  body,  pinioning  the  latter's  arms  securely  to 
his  sides.  Keeping  a  stiff  strain  on  the  riata,  Pablo 
drew  his  victim  swiftly  toward  the  porch,  round  an 
upright  of  which  he  had  taken  a  hitch;  in  a  surpris 
ingly  brief  period,  despite  the  Jap's  frantic  efforts  to 
release  himself,  Pablo  had  his  man  lashed  firmly  to  the 
porch  column,  whereupon  he  proceeded  to  flog  his  pris 
oner  with  a  heavy  quirt  which,  throughout  the  opera- 

179 


180  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

tion,  had  dangled  from  his  left  wrist.  With  each  blow, 
old  Pablo  tossed  a  pleasantry  at  his  victim,  who  took 
the  dreadful  scourging  without  an  outcry,  never  ceas 
ing  a  dogged  effort  to  twist  loose  from  his  bonds  until 
his  straining  and  flinching  loosed  the  ancient  rusty 
nails  at  top  and  bottom  of  the  upright,  and,  with  a 
crash,  the  Oriental  fell  headlong  backward  on  the 
porch,  as  a  tree  falls.  Thereupon,  Pablo  kicked  him 
half  a  dozen  times  for  good  measure,  and  proceeded  to 
roll  him  over  and  over  along  the  porch  toward  his 
room.  Eventually  this  procedure  unwound  him  from 
the  riata;  Pablo  then  removed  the  loop,  and  Okada 
staggered  into  his  room  and  fell,  half  fainting,  on  his 
bed. 

His  honor  now  quite  clean,  Pablo  departed  from  the 
patio.  He  had  been  less  than  five  minutes  on  his  mis 
sion  of  vengeance,  and  when  John  Parker  and  his  wife 
came  out  of  the  dining-room,  the  sight  of  the  imper 
turbable  old  majordomo  unconcernedly  coiling  his 
"twine"  roused  in  them  no  apprehension  as  to  the  pun 
ishment  that  had  overtaken  Okada. 

Having  finished  their  luncheon — a  singularly  pleas 
ant  tete-a-tete — Don  Mike  and  Kay  joined  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Parker.  At  once  Farrel's  glance  marked  the  ab 
sence  of  the  porch  column. 

"I  declare,"  he  announced,  with  mock  seriousness, 
"a  portion  of  my  veranda  has  given  way.  I  wonder  if 
a  man  could  have  been  tied  do  it.  I  heard  a  crash,  and 
at  the  time  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  a  heavy  crash 
• — heavier  than  the  weight  of  that  old  porch  column 
would  produce.  Mr.  Parker,  may  I  suggest  that  you 
investigate  the  physical  condition  of  our  Japanese 
friend?  He  is  doubtless  in  his  room.'* 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  181 

Parker  flashed  his  host  a  quick  glance,  almost  of 
resentment,  and  went  to  Okada's  room.  When  he  re 
turned,  he  said  soberly: 

"Pablo  has  beaten  the  little  fellow  into  a  pitiable  con 
dition.  He  tied  him  to  that  porch  column  and  flogged 
him  with  a  quirt.  While  I  cannot  defend  Okada's 
action  in  releasing  Loustalot,  nevertheless,  Mr.  Far- 
rel — '  Don  Mike's  black  eyes  burned  like  live  coals. 
"Nevertheless— I— well "  Parker  hesitated. 

Don  Mike's  lips  were  drawn  a  trifle  in  the  ghost  of  a 
smile  that  was  not  good  to  see. 

"I  think,  sir,'*  he  said  softly,  distinctly,  and  with 
chill  suavity,  "that  Mr.  Okada  might  be  grateful  for 
the  services  of  the  excellent  Murray,  if  the  potato 
baron  is,  as  I  shrewdly  suspect  he  will  be,  leaving  within 
five  minutes." 

"Good  Heavens,  man,  I  believe  it  will  be  an  hour  be 
fore  he  can  walk!" 

Farrel  glanced  critically  at  his  wrist-watch  and 
.seemed  to  ponder  this. 

"I  fear  five  minutes  is  all  I  can  permit,  sir,"  he  re 
plied.  "If  he  should  be  unable  to  walk  from  his  room, 
Murray,  who  is  the  soul  of  thoughtfulness,  will  doubt 
less  assist  him  to  the  waiting  automobile." 

Five  minutes  later,  the  potato  baron  and  the  potato 
baron's  suitcase  were  lifted  into  the  tonneau  of  the 
car  by  Murray  and  William.  From  over  by  the  black 
smith  shop,  Don  Mike  saw  Parker  bid  his  Japanese 
confrere  adieu,  and  as  the  car  dipped  below  the  mesa, 
Parker  came  over  and  joined  them. 

"Thought  you  were  going  in  to  El  Toro  this  after 
noon,"  the  young  man  suggested. 

"I  had  planned  to,  but  changed  my  mind  after  be- 


182  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

holding  that  Nipponese  ruin.  To  have  driven  to  El 
Toro  with  him  would  have  broken  my  heart." 

"Never  mind,  pa,"  Mrs.  Parker  consoled  him ;  "you'll 
have  your  day  in  court,  will  you  not?" 

"I  think  he's  going  to  have  several  of  them,"  Don 
Mike  predicted  maliciously,  and  immediately  withdrew 
the  sting  from  his  words  by  placing  his  hand  in  friendly 
fashion  on  Parker's  shoulder  and  shaking  him  play 
fully.  "In  the  interim,  however,"  he  continued,  "now 
that  our  unwelcome  guests  have  departed  and  peace 
has  been  reestablished  on  El  Palomar  (for  I  hear  Pablo 
whistling  'La  Paloma'  in  the  distance),  what  reason,  if 
any,  exists  why  we  shouldn't  start  right  now  to  get 
some  fun  out  of  life?  I've  had  a  wonderful  forenoon 
at  your  expense,  so  I  want  you  and  the  ladies  to  have 
a  wonderful  afternoon  at  mine."  He  glanced  alertly 
from  one  to  the  other,  questioningly. 

"I  wonder  if  the  horses  have  recovered  from  their 
furious  chase  of  this  morning,"  Kay  ventured. 

"Of  course.  That  was  merely  an  exercise  gallop. 
How  would  you  all  like  to  come  for  a  ride  with  me  over 
to  the  Agua  Caliente  basin?" 

"Why  the  Agua  Caliente  basin?"  Parker  queried 
casually.  "That's  quite  a  distance  from  here,  is  it 
not?" 

"About  seven  miles — fourteen  over  and  back.  Sup 
pose  William  follows  with  the  car  after  his  return  from 
El  Toro.  You  can  then  ride  back  with  him,  and  I'll 
bring  the  horses  home.  I  realize  fourteen  miles  is  too 
great  a  distance  for  inexperienced  riders." 

"Isn't  that  going  to  considerable  trouble?"  Parker 
suggested  suavely.  "Suppose  we  ride  down  the  valley. 
I  prefer  flat  land  to  rolling  country  when  I  ride." 


HERE    AMIDST     THE     GOLDEN     ROMANCE     OF     THE     OLD 
MISSION,  THE  GIRL  SUDDENLY  UNDERSTOOD   DON   MIKE. 


1 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  183 

"No  game  down  that  way,"  Farrel  explained  pa 
tiently.  "We'll  take  the  hounds  and  put  something 
up  a  tree  over  Caliente  Basin  way  before  we  get  back. 
Besides,  I  have  a  great  curiosity  to  inspect  the  dam 
you're  building  and  the  artesian  wells  you're  drilling 
over  in  that  country." 

"Confound  you,  Farrel!  You  realized  the  possibil 
ities  of  that  basin,  then?" 

"Years  ago.  The  basin  comes  to  a  bottle-neck  be 
tween  two  high  hills;  all  you  have  to  do  is  dam  that 
narrow  gorge,  and  when  the  Rio  San  Gregorio  is  up 
and  brimming  in  freshet  time,  you'll  have  a  lake  a  hun 
dred  feet  deep,  a  mile  wide,  and  five  miles  long  before 
you  know  it.  Did  you  ever  consider  the  possibility  of 
leading  a  ditch  from  the  lake  thus  formed  along  the 
shoulder  of  El  Palomar,  that  forty-five-hundred-foot 
peak  for  which  the  ranch  is  named,  and  giving  it  a 
sixty-five-per-cent.  nine-hundred-foot  drop  to  a  snug 
little  power-station  at  the  base  of  the  mountain.  You 
could  develop  thirty  or  forty  thousand  horse-power 
very  easily  and  sell  it  easier;  after  your  water  had 
passed  through  the  penstock  and  delivered  its  power, 
you  could  run  it  off  through  a  lateral  to  the  main  ditch 
down  the  San  Gregorio  and  sell  it  to  your  Japanese 
farmers  for  irrigation." 

"By  Jupiter,  I  believe  you  would  have  done  some 
thing  with  this  ranch  if  you  had  had  the  backing, 
Farrel  1" 

"Never  speculated  very  hard  on  securing  the  back 
ing,"  Don  Mike  admitted,  with  a  frank  grin.  "We 
always  lived  each  day  as  if  it  were  the  last,  you  know. 
But  over  in  Siberia,  far  removed  from  all  my  easy- 


184  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

going  associations,  both  inherited  and  acquired,  I  com 
menced  dreaming  of  possibilities  in  the  Agua  Caliente 
basin." 

"Well  then,  since  you  insist,  let's  go  over  there  and 
have  your  curiosity  satiated,"  Parker  agreed,  with  the 
best  grace  possible. 

While  the  Parkers  returned  to  the  hacienda  to 
change  into  their  riding-clothes,  Miguel  Parrel  strolled 
over  to  the  corral  where  Pablo  Artelan,  wearing  upon 
his  leathery  countenance  the  closest  imitation  of  a 
smile  that  had  ever  lighted  that  dark  expanse,  joined 
him  and,  with  Parrel,  leaned  over  the  corral  fence  and 
gazed  at  the  horses  within.  Por  a  long  time,  neither 
spoke ;  then,  while  his  glance  still  appraised  the  horses, 
Don  Mike  stiffened  a  thumb  and  drove  it  with  consid 
erable  force  into  Pablo's  ancient  ribs.  Carolina,  en 
gaged  in  hanging  out  the  Parker  wash  in  the  yard  of 
her  ca$a,  observed  Don  Mike  bestow  this  infrequent  ac 
colade  of  approbation  and  affection,  and  her  heart 
swelled  with  pride.  Ah,  yes;  it  was  good  to  have  the 
child  back  on  the  rancho  again. 

Carolina  and  Pablo  had  never  heard  that  the  ravens 
fed  Elijah;  they  had  never  heard  of  Elijah.  Never 
theless,  if  they  had,  they  would  not  have  envied  him 
the  friendship  of  those  divinely  directed  birds,  for  the 
Parrels  had  always  fed  Pablo  and  Carolina  and  their 
numerous  brood,  now  raised  and  scattered  over  the 
countryside.  At  sight  of  that  prod  in  the  ribs,  Caro 
lina  dismissed  forever  a  worry  that  had  troubled  her 
vaguely  during  the  period  between  old  Don  Miguel's 
death  and  the  return  of  young  Don  Miguel — the  fear 
that  a  lifetime  of  ease  and  plenty  had  ended.  Pres- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  185 

ently,  she  lifted  a  falsetto  voice  in  a  Spanish  love- 
song  two  centuries  old. 

I  await  the  morrow,  Nifia  mia, 

I  await  the  morrow,  all  through  the  night, 
For  the  entrancing  music  and  dancing 

With  thee,  my  song-bird,  my  heart's  delight. 
Come  dance,  my  Nina,  in  thy  mantilla, 

Think  of  our  love  and  do  not  say  no ; 
Hasten  then  my  treasure,  grant  me  this  pleasure, 

Dance  then  tomorrow  the  bolero ! 

Over  at  the  corral,  Pablo  rolled  a  cigarette,  lighted 
it,  and  permitted  a  thin  film  of  smoke  to  trickle  through 
his  nostrils.  He,  too,  was  content. 

"Carolina,"  he  remarked  presently,  in  English,  "is 
happy  to  beat  hell." 

"I  haven't  any  right  to  be,  but,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  I'm  feeling  gay  myself,"  his  master  replied. 

He  started  toward  the  harness-room  to  get  the  saddle 
for  Panchito,  and  Pablo  lingered  a  moment  at  the 
fence,  gazing  after  him  curiously.  Could  it  be  pos 
sible  that  Don  Miguel  Jose  Maria  Federico  Noriaga 
Farrel  had,  while  sojourning  in  the  cold  land  of  the 
bewhiskered  men,  lost  a  modicum  of  that  particularity 
with  women  which  had  formerly  distinguished  him  in 
the  eyes  of  his  humble  retainers? 

"Damn  my  soul  eef  I  don't  know  sometheeng !"  Pablo 
muttered,  and  followed  for  a  saddle  for  the  gray  geld 
ing. 


XIX 

WHEN  the  Parkers  emerged  from  the  hacienda, 
they  found  Don  Mike  and  Pablo  holding  the 
horses  and  waiting  for  them.  Kay  wore  a  beautifully 
tailored  riding-habit  of  dark  unfinished  material,  shot 
with  a  faint  admixture  of  gray ;  her  boots  were  of  shin 
ing  black  undressed  leather,  and  she  wore  a  pair  of 
little  silver-mounted  spurs,  the  sight  of  which  caused 
Pablo  to  exchange  sage  winks  with  his  master.  Her 
white-pique  stock  was  fastened  by  an  exquisite  little 
cameo  stick-pin ;  from  under  the  brim  of  a  black-beaver 
sailor-hat,  set  well  down  on  her  head,  her  wistful  brown 
eyes  looked  up  at  Don  Mike,  and  caught  the  quick 
glance  of  approval  with  which  he  appraised  her,  before 
turning  to  her  mother. 

"The  black  mare  for  you,  Mrs.  Parker,"  he  sug 
gested.  "She's  a  regular  old  sweetheart  and  single- 
foots  beautifully.  I  think  you'll  fihd  that  stock-saddle 
a  far  more  comfortable  seat  than  the  saddle  Miss  Kay 
is  using." 

"I  know  I'm  not  as  light  and  graceful  as  I  used 
to  be,  Mike,"  the  amiable  soul  assured  him,  "but  it 
irks  me  to  have  men  notice  it.  You  might  have  given 
me  an  opportunity  to  decline  Kay's  saddle.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  being  too  thoughtful,  you  know." 

"Mother!"  Kay  cried  reproachfully. 

Don  Mike  blushed,  even  while  he  smiled  his  pleasure 
at  the  lady's  badinage.  She  observed  this. 

186 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  187 

"You're  a  nice  boy,  Michael,"  she  murmured,  for  his 
ear  alone.  "Why,  you  old-fashioned  young  rascal!" — 
as  Don  Mike  stooped  and  held  out  his  hand.  She 
placed  her  left  foot  in  it  and  was  lifted  lightly  into  the 
saddle.  When  he  had  adjusted  the  stirrups  to  fit  her, 
he  turned  to  aid  Kay,  only  to  discover  that  the  gallant 
Panchito  had  already  performed  the  honors  for  that 
young  lady  by  squatting  until  she  could  reach  the 
stirrup  without  difficulty. 

Parker  rode  the  gray  horse,  and  Farrel  had  appro 
priated  a  pinto  cow  pony  that  Pablo  used  when  line- 
riding. 

With  the  hounds  questing  ahead  of  them,  the  four 
jogged  up  the  San  Gregorio,  Don  Mike  leading  the 
way,  with  Kay  riding  beside  him.  From  time  to  time 
she  stole  a  sidelong  glance  at  him,  riding  with  his  chin 
on  his  breast,  apparently  oblivious  of  her  presence. 
She  knew  that  he  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  entertaining 
to-day,  to  be  a  carefree  squire  of  dames ;  his  mind  was 
busy  grappling  with  problems  that  threatened  not  only 
him  but  everything  in  life  that  he  held  to  be  worth 
while. 

"Do  we  go  through  that  gate?"  the  girl  queried, 
pointing  to  a  five-rail  gate  in  a  wire  fence  that  strag 
gled  across  the  valleys  and  up  the  hillside. 

He  nodded. 

"Of  course  you  do  not  have  to  go  through  it,"  be 
teased  her.  "Panchito  can  go  over  it.  Pie  for  him. 
About  five  feet  and  a  half." 

"Enough  for  all  practical  purposes,"  she  replied, 
and  touched  her  ridiculous  little  spurs  to  the  animal's 
flank,  took  a  firm  grip  on  the  reins  with  both  hands, 
and  sat  down  firmly  in  the  saddle.  "All  right,  boy!" 


188  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

she  cried,  and,  at  the  invitation,  Panchito  pricked  up 
his  ears  and  broke  into  an  easy  canter,  gradually  in 
creasing  his  speed  and  taking  the  gate  apparently 
without  effort.  Don  Mike  watched  to  see  the  girl  rise 
abruptly  in  her  seat  as  the  horse  came  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  gate.  But  no !  She  was  still  sitting 
down  in  the  saddle,  her  little  hands  resting  lightly  on 
the  horse's  neck;  and  while  Farrel  watched  her  in 
downright  admiration  and  her  mother  sat,  white  and 
speechless  on  the  black  mare,  Kay  galloped  ahead  a 
hundred  yards,  turned,  and  came  back  over  the  gate 
again. 

"Oh,  isn't  he  a  darling?"  she  cried.  "He  pulls  his 
feet  up  under  him  like  a  dog,  when  he  takes  off,  I 
want  to  take  him  over  a  seven-foot  hurdle.  He  can 
do  it  with  yours  truly  up.  Let's  build  a  seven-foot 
hurdle  to-morrow  and  try  him  out." 

"Fine !  We'll  build  it,"  Don  Mike  declared  enthusi 
astically,  and  Parker,  watching  his  wife's  frightened 
face,  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"You  are  encouraging  my  daughter  to  kill  herself," 
the  older  woman  charged  Farrel.  "Kay,  you  tomboy, 
do  not  jump  that  gate  again!  Suppose  that  horse 
should  stumble  and  throw  you." 

"Nonsense,  mother.  That's  mere  old  hop-Scotch  for 
Panchito.  One  doesn't  get  a  jumping- jack  to  ride 
every  day,  and  all  I've  ever  done  has  been  to  pussyfoot 
through  Central  Park." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you've  never  taken  a  hurdle 
before?"  Don  Mike  was  scandalized.  She  nodded. 

"She'll  do,"  Parker  assured  him  proudly. 

Farrel  confirmed  this  verdict  with  a  nod  and  opened 
the  gate.  They  rode  through.  Kay  waited  for  him  to 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  189 

•CiOse  the  gate.  He  saw  that  she  had  been  captivated 
by  Panchito,  and  as  their  glances  met,  his  smile  was  a 
reflection  of  hers — a  smile  thoroughly  and  childishly 
happy. 

"If  you'd  only  sell  him  to  me,  Don  Mike,"  she 
pleaded.  "I'll  give  you  a  ruinous  price  for  him." 

"He  is  not  for  sale,  Miss  Kay." 

"But  you  were  going  to  give  him  away  to  your  late 
battery  commander!" 

He  held  up  his  right  hand  with  the  red  scar  on  the 
back  of  it,  but  made  no  further  reply. 

"Why  will  you  not  sell  him  to  me?"  she  pleaded.  "I 
w&nt  him  so." 

"I  love  him,"  he  answered  at  that,  "and  I  could  only 
part  with  him — for  love.  Some  day,  I  may  give  him 
to  somebody  worth  while,  but  for  the  present  I  think 
I  shall  be  selfish  and  continue  to  own  him.  He's  a 
big,  powerful  animal,  and  if  he  can  carry  weight  in  a 
long  race,  he's  fast  enough  to  make  me  some  money." 

"Let  me  ride  him  in  the  try-out,"  she  pleaded.  "I 
weigh  just  a  hundred  and  twenty." 

"Very  well.  To-morrow  I'll  hitch  up  a  work-team 
and  disk  the  heart  out  of  our  old  race-track —  Oh, 
yes ;  we  have  such  a  thing" — in  reply  to  her  lifted 
brows.  "My  grandfather  Mike  induced  my  great 
grandfather  Noriaga  to  build  it  way  back  in  the  'For 
ties.  The  Indians  and  vaqueros  used  to  run  scrub  races 
in  those  days — in  fact,  it  was  their  main  pastime." 

"Where  is  this  old  race-track?" 

"Down  in  the  valley.  A  fringe  of  oaks  hides  it.  It's 
grass-grown  and  it  hasn't  been  used  in  twenty-five 
years,  except  when  the  Indians  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 


190  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

try  foregather  in  the  valley  occasionally  arid  pull  off 
some  scrub  races." 

"How  soon  can  we  put  it  in  commission?"  she  de 
manded  eagerly. 

"I'll  disk  it  to-morrow.  The  ground  is  soft  now, 
after  this  recent  rain.  Then  I'll  harrow  it  well  and 
run  a  culti-packer  over  it — well,  by  the  end  of  the 
week  it  ought  to  be  a  fairly  fast  track." 

"Goody!  We'll  go  in  to  El  Toro  to-morrow  and 
Fll  wire  to  San  Francisco  for  a  stop-watch.  May  I 
sprint  Panchito  a  little  across  that  meadow?" 

"Wait  a  moment,  Miss  Kay.  We  shall  have  some 
thing  to  sprint  after  in  a  few  minutes,  I  think."  As 
the  hounds  gave  tongue  in  a  path  of  willows  they  had 
been  investigating  far  to  the  right,  Don  Mike  pulled 
up  his  horse  and  listened.  "Hot  trail,"  he  informed 
her.  "They'll  all  be  babbling  in  a  moment." 

He  was  right. 

"If  it's  a  coyote,  he'll  sneak  up  the  wash  of  the 
river,"  he  informed  the  girl,  "but  if  it's  a  cat,  he'll  cut 
through  that  open  space  to  tree  in  the  oaks  beyond — • 
Ha !  There  goes  a  mountain-lion.  After  him !" 

His  alert  pony  went  from  a  halt  to  a  gallop,  follow 
ing  a  long,  lithe  tawny  animal  that  loped  easily  into 
view,  coming  from  the  distant  willow  thicket.  In  an 
instant,  Kay  was  beside  him. 

"Head  him  off,"  he  commanded  curtly.  "This  ruin 
of  Pablo's  is  done  in  a  quarter-mile  dash,  but  Panchito 
can  outrun  that  cat  without  trying.  Don't  be  afraid 
of  him.  They're  cowardly  brutes.  Get  between  him 
and  the  oaks  and  turn  him  back  to  me.  Ride  him 
down  !  He'll  dodge  out  of  your  way." 

She  saw  that  he  was  uncoiling  his  riata  as  he  spoke, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  191 

and  divined  his  purpose,  as,  with  a  cluck  and  a  boot 
to  Panchito,  she  thundered  after  the  big  cat,  her  heart 
thumping  with  mingled  fear  and  excitement.  Evi 
dently  this  was  an  old  game  to  Panchito,  however,  for 
he  pinned  his  ears  a  little  and  headed  straight  for  the 
quarry.  Seemingly  he  knew  what  was  expected  of  him, 
and  had  a  personal  interest  in  the  affair,  for  as  he 
came  up  to  the  animal,  he  attempted  to  run  the  panther 
down.  The  animal  merely  snarled  and  gave  ground, 
while  gradually  Panchito  "hazed"  him  until  the  fright 
ened  creature  was  headed  at  right  angles  to  the  course 
he  had  originally  pursued.  And  now  Don  Mike,  urging 
the  pinto  to  top  speed,  came  racing  up  and  cut  him  off. 

"Catch  him;  catch  him!"  Kay  screamed  excitedly. 
"Don't  let  him  get  away !"  She  drove  Panchito  almost 
on  top  of  the  panther,  and  forced  the  beast  to  stop 
suddenly  and  dodge  toward  the  approaching  Farrel. 
As  Panchito  dashed  by,  Kay  had  a  glimpse  of  Don 
Mike  riding  in,  his  looped  riata  swinging  in  wide,  slow 
concentric  circles — casually,  even.  As  she  brought 
Panchito  round  on  his  nimble  heels,  she  saw  Don  Mike 
rise  in  his  stirrups  and  throw. 

Even  as  the  loop  left  his  hand,  he  appeared  to  have 
no  doubt  of  the  outcome,  for  Kay  saw  him  make  a 
quick  turn  of  his  rope  round  the  pommel  of  his  saddle, 
whirl  at  a  right  angle,  and,  with  a  whoop  of  pure,  un 
adulterated  joy,  go  by  her  at  top  speed,  dragging  the 
panther  behind  him.  The  loop  had  settled  over  the 
animal's  body  and  been  drawn  taut  around  his  loins. 

Suddenly  the  pinto  came  to  an  abrupt  pause,  sliding 
on  his  haunches  to  avoid  a  tiny  arroyo,  too  wide  for 
him  to  leap.  The  strain  on  the  riata  was  thus  momen 
tarily  slackened,  permitting  the  big  cat  to  scramble  to 


192  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

all  fours  and  turn  to  investigate  this  trap  into  which 
he  had  fallen.  Instantly  he  charged,  spitting  and  open- 
mouthed,  and,  for  some  unknown  reason,  Farrel  led  the 
screaming  fury  straight  toward  Kay  and  Panchito. 
The  cat  realized  this,  also,  for  suddenly  he  decided  that 
Panchito  offered  the  best  opportunity  to  vent  his  rage, 
and  changed  his  course  accordingly.  Quick  as  he  did 
so,  Farrel  whirled  his  pinto  in  the  opposite  direction, 
with  the  result  that  the  panther  left  the  ground  with 
a  jerk  and  was  dragged  through  the  air  for  six  feet 
before  striking  heavily  upon  his  back.  He  wras  too 
dazed  to  struggle  while  Farrel  dragged  him  through  the 
grass  and  halted  under  a  lone  sycamore.  While  the 
badly  shaken  cat  was  struggling  to  his  feet  and  sway 
ing  drunkenly,  Farrel  passed  the  end  of  his  riata  over 
a  limb,  took  a  new  hitch  on  his  pommel,  and  ran  out, 
drawing  the  screaming,  clawing  animal  off  the  ground 
until  he  swung,  head  down,  the  ripping  chisels  on  his 
front  paws  tearing  the  grass  up  in  great  tufts. 

The  pinto,  a  trained  roping  horse,  stoocl,  blown  and 
panting,  his  feet  braced,  keeping  the  rope  taut  while 
Farrel  dismounted  and  casually  strolled  back  to  the 
tree.  He  broke  off  a  small  twig  and  waited,  while  the 
hounds,  belling  lustily,  came  nosing  across  the  meadow. 
Kay  rode  up,  as  the  dogs,  catching  sight  of  the  help 
less  cat,  quickened  their  speed  to  close  in;  she  heard 
Farrel  shout  to  them  and  saw  him  lay  about  him  with 
the  twig,  beating  the  eager  animals  back  from  their 
still  dangerous  prey. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker  had,  in  the  meantime,  galloped 
up  and  stood  by,  interested  spectators,  while  Don  Mike 
searched  round  until  he  found  a  hard,  thick,  dry,  broken 
limb  from  the  sycamore. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  193 

"This  certainly  is  my  day  for  making  money,"  he 
announced  gaily.  "Here's  where  I  put  thirty  dollars 
toward  that  three-hundred-thousand-dollar  mortgage." 
He  stepped  up  to  the  lion  and  stunned  it  with  a  blow 
over  the  head,  after  which  he  removed  the  riata  from  the 
creature's  loins,  slipped  the  noose  round  the  cat's  neck, 
and  hoisted  the  unconscious  brute  clear  of  the  ground. 

"Now  then,"  he  announced  cheerfully,  "we'll  just 
leave  this  fellow  to  contemplate  the  result  of  a  life  of 
shame.  He  shall  hang  by  the  neck  until  he  is  dead — • 
dead — dead !  We'll  pick  him  up  on  our  way  back,  and 
to-night  I'll  skin  him.  Fall  in,  my  squad !  On  our 
way." 

"Do  you  do  that  sort  of  thing  very  often,  Mr.  Far- 
rel?"  Parker  queried. 

"Life  is  a  bit  dull  out  here,  sir.  Any  time  the  dogs 
put  up  a  panther  in  the  open,  we  try  to  rope  him  and 
have  a  little  fun.  This  is  the  first  one  I  have  roped 
alone,  however.  I  always  did  want  to  rope  a  panther 
all  by  myself.  Ordinarily,  I  would  not  have  told  Miss 
Kay  to  head  that  cat  in  toward  me,  but,  then,  she 
didn't  flunk  the  gate  back  yonder,  arid  I  had  a  great 
curiosity  to  see  if  she'd  flunk  the  cat.  She  didn't  and" 
• — he  turned  toward  her  with  beaming,  prideful  eyes — • 
"if  I  were  out  of  debt,  I  wouldn't  trade  my  friendship 
with  a  girl  as  game  as  you,  Kay,  for  the  entire  San 
Gregorio  valley.  You're  a  trump." 

"You're  rather  a  Nervy  Nat  yourself,  aren't  you?" 
her  droll  mother  struck  in.  "As  a  Christian  martyr, 
you  would  have  had  the  Colosseum  to  yourself ;  every 
tiger  and  lion  in  Rome  would  have  taken  to  the  tall 
timber  when  you  came  on." 

As  he  rode  ahead,  chuckling,  to  join  her  daughter, 


194  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Parrel  knew  that  at  all  events  he  had  earned  the  ap 
proval  of  the  influential  member  of  the  Parker  fam 
ily.  Mrs.  Parker,  on  her  part,  was  far  more  excited 
than  her  colloquial  humor  indicated. 

"John,"  she  whispered,  "did  you  notice  it?" 

"Notice  what?" 

"I  don't  know  why  I  continue  to  live  with  you — 
you're  so  dull!  In  his  excitement,  he  just  called  her 
'Kay.'  Last  night,  when  they  met,  she  was  'Miss 
Parker.'  At  noon  to-day,  she  was  'Miss  Kay'  and  now 
she's  plain  'Kay.' '  A  cloud  crossed  his  brow,  but  he 
made  no  answer,  so,  woman-like,  she  pressed  for  one. 
"Suppose  our  daughter  should  fall  in  love  with  this 
young  man?" 

"That  would  be  more  embarrassing  than  ever,  from 
a  business  point  of  view,"  he  admitted,  "and  the  Lord 
knows  this  fellow  has  me  worried  enough  already.  He's 
no  mean  antagonist." 

"That's  what  the  panther  probably  thought,  John." 

"His  decoration,  and  that  stunt — dazzling  to  the 
average  girl,"  he  muttered. 

"In  addition  to  his  good  looks,  exquisite  manners, 
and,  I  am  quite  certain,  very  high  sense  of  honor  and 
lofty  ideals,"  she  supplemented. 

"In  that  event,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  a  con 
sideration  of  his  desperate  financial  strait  will  preclude 
his  indicating  any  lively  interest  in  Kay."  Parker 
glanced  anxiously  at  his  wife,  as  if  seeking  in  her  face 
confirmation  of  a  disturbing  suspicion.  "At  least,  that 
would  be  in  consonance  with  the  high  sense  of  honor 
and  lofty  ideals  with  which  you  credit  him.  However, 
we  must  remember  that  he  has  a  dash  of  Latin  blood, 
and  my  experience  has  been  that  not  infrequently  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  195 

Latin's  high  sense  of  honor  and  lofty  idealism  are  con 
fined  to  lip-service  only.  I  wonder  if  he'd  be  above 
using  Kay  as  a  gun  to  point  at  my  head." 

"I'm  quite  certain  that  he  would,  John.  Even  if  he 
should  become  interested  in  her  for  her  own  sake,  he 
would,  of  course,  realize  that  the  genuineness  of  his 
feeling  would  be  open  to  suspicion  by — well,  most 
people,  who  comprehend  his  position — and  I  doubt 
very  much  if,  under  these  circumstances,  he  will  permit 
himself  to  become  interested  in  her." 

"He  may  not  be  able  to  help  himself.  Kay  gets  them 
all  winging." 

"Even  so,  he  will  not  so  far  forget  his  ancestral  pride 
as  to  admit  it,  or  even  give  the  slightest  intimation  of 
it." 

"He  is  a  prideful  sort  of  chap.  I  noticed  that. 
Still,  he's  not  a  prig." 

"He  has  pride  of  race,  John.  Pride  of  ancestry, 
pride  of  tradition,  pride  of  an  ancient,  undisputed 
leadership  in  his  own  community.  He  has  been  raised 
to  know  that  he  is  not  vulgar  or  stupid  or  plebeian ; 
his  character  has  been  very  carefully  cultivated  and 
developed." 

He  edged  his  horse  close  to  hers. 

"Look  here,  my  dear,"  he  queried ;  "what  brought  the 
tears  to  your  eyes  at  luncheon  to-day?" 

"There  was  a  moment,  John,  when  the  shadow  of  a 
near-break  came  over  his  face.  Kay  and  I  both  saw 
it.  He  looked  wistful  and  lonely  and  beaten,  and 
dropped  his  head  like  a  tired  horse,  and  her  heart,  her 
very  soul,  went  out  to  him.  I  saw  her  hand  go  out  to 
him,  too ;  she  touched  his  arm  for  an  instant  and  then, 
realizing,  she  withdrew  it.  And  then  I  knew !" 


196  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

"Knew  what?" 

"That  our  little  daughter,  who  has  been  used  to 
queening  it  over  every  man  of  her  acquaintance,  is 
going  to  batter  her  heart  out  against  the  pride  of 
Palomar." 

"You  mean — — " 

"She  loves  him.  She  doesn't  know  it  yet,  but  I  do. 
Oh,  John,  I'm  old  and  wise.  I  know!  If  Miguel  Far- 
rel  were  of  a  piece  with  the  young  men  she  has  always 
met,  I  wouldn't  worry.  But  he's  so  absolutely  differ 
ent — so  natural,  so  free  from  that  atrocious  habit  of 
never  being  able  to  disassociate  self  from  the  little, 
graceful  courtesies  young  men  show  women.  He's 
wholesome,  free  from  ego,  from  that  intolerable  air  of 
proprietorship,  of  masculine  superiority  and  cocksure- 
ness  that  seems  so  inseparable  from  the  young  men  in 
her  set." 

"I  agree  with  you,  my  dear.  Many  a  time  I  have 
itched  to  grasp  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  and  spoil  a 
couple  of  dozen  of  those  young  pups  with  their  story 
book  notions  of  life." 

"Now,  that  Don  Mike,"  she  continued  critical^,  "is 
thoughtful  of  and  very  deferential  to  those  to  whom 
deference  is  due,  which  characteristic,  coupled  with  the 
fact  that  he  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  most  pathetic  fig 
ure  at  this  time,  is  bound  to  make  a  profound  impres 
sion  on  any  girl  of  ready  sympathy.  And  pity  is  akin 
to  love." 

"I  see."  Parker  nodded  sagely.  "Then  you  think 
he'll  go  down  to  defeat  with  his  mouth  shut?" 

"I'm  certain  of  it,  John." 

"On  the  other  hand,  if  he  should  succeed  in  sending 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  197 

me  down  to  defeat,  thereby  regaining  his  lost  place  in 
the  sun,  he  might — er — " 

"Let  us  be  practical,  John.  Let  us  call  a  spade  a 
spade.  If  he  regains  the  Rancho  Palomar,  his 
thoughts  will  inevitably  turn  to  the  subject  of  a  mis 
tress  for  that  old  hacienda.  He  has  pride  of  race,  I 
tell  you,  and  he  would  be  less  than  human  if  he  could 
contemplate  himself  as  the  last  of  that  race. 

"John,  he  did  not  capture  that  panther  alive  a  few 
moments  ago  merely  to  be  spectacular.  His  under 
lying  reason  was  the  thirty-dollar  bounty  on  the  pelt 
and  the  salvation  of  his  cattle.  And  he  did  not  cap 
ture  that  Basque  this  morning  and  extort  justice, 
long-delayed,  with  any  thought  that  by  so  doing  he  was 
saving  his  principality  for  a  stranger.  He  will  not 
fight  you  to  a  finish  for  that." 

"What  a  philosopher  you're  getting  to  be,  my  dear!" 
he  parried  ironically.  And,  after  a  pause,  "Well,  I 
see  very  clearly  that  if  your  predictions  come  to  pass, 
I  shall  be  as  popular  in  certain  circles  as  the  prover 
bial  wet  dog." 

Her  roguish  eyes  appraised  him. 

"Yes,  John;  you're  totally  surrounded  now.  I  sup 
pose,  when  you  realize  the  enormity  of  the  odds  against 
you,  you'll  do  the  decent  thing  and " 

"Renew  his  mortgage?  Not  in  a  million  years!" 
Parker's  voice  carried  a  strident  note  of  finality,  of 
purpose  inflexible,  and  he  thumped  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle  thrice  in  emphasis.  He  was  a  man  v>Tho,  al 
though  normally  kind  and  amiable,  nevertheless  re 
served  these  qualities  for  use  under  conditions  not 
connected  with  the  serious  business  of  profiting  by  an 
other's  loss.  Quite  early  in  life  he  had  learned  to  say 


198  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"No."  He  preferred  to  say  it  kindly  and  amiably,  but 
none  the  less  forcibly;  some  men  had  known  him  to 
say  it  in  a  manner  singularly  reminiscent  of  the  low, 
admonitory  growl  of  a  fierce  old  dog. 

"But,  John  dear,  why  are  we  accumulating1  all  this 
wealth?  Is  not  Kay  our  sole  heir?  Is  not " 

"Do  not  threaten  me  with  Kay,"  he  interrupted  ir 
ritably.  "I  play  my  game  according  to  the  time- 
honored  rules  of  that  game.  I  do  not  ask  for  quarter, 
and  I  shall  not  give  it.  I'm  going  to  do  all  in  my 
power  to  acquire  the  Rancho  Palomar  under  that  mort 
gage  I  hold — and  I  hope  that  young  man  gives  me  a 
bully  fight.  That  will  make  the  operation  all  the  more 
interesting. 

"My  dear,  the  continuous  giving  of  one  more  chance 
to  the  Farrels  has  proved  their  undoing.  They  first 
mortgaged  part  of  the  ranch  in  1870 ;  when  the  mort 
gage  fell  due,  they  executed  a  new  note  plus  the  ac 
crued  interest  and  mortgaged  more  of  the  ranch.  Fre 
quently  they  paid  the  interest  and  twice  they  paid 
half  the  principal,  bidding  for  one  more  chance  and  get 
ting  it.  And  all  these  years  they  have  lived  like  feu 
dal  barons  on  their  principal,  living  for  to-day,  reck 
less  of  to-morrow.  Theirs  has  been  the  history  of 
practically  all  of  the  old  California  families.  I  am 
convinced  it  would  be  no  kindness  to  Don  Miguel  to 
give  him  another  chance  now;  his  Spanish  blood  would 
lull  him  to  ease  and  forgetfulness ;  he  would  tell  him 
self  he  would  pay  the  mortgage  manana.  By  giving 
him  another  chance,  I  would  merely  remove  his  incentive 
to  hustle  and  make  good." 

"But  it  seems  so  cruel,  John,  to  take  such  a  practical 
view  of  the  situation.  He  cannot  understand  your 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  199 

point  of  view  and  he  will  regard  you  as  another  Shy- 
lock." 

"Doubtless,"  he  replied ;  "nevertheless,  if  we  are  ever 
forced  to  regard  him  as  a  prospective  son-in-law,  it 
will  be  comforting  to  know  that  even  if  he  lost,  he  made 
me  extend  myself.  He  is  a  man  and  a  gentleman,  and 
I  like  him.  He  won  me  in  the  first  minute  of  our  ac 
quaintance.  That  is  why  I  decided  to  stand  pat  and 
see  what  he  would  do."  Parker  leaned  over  and  laid 
his  hand  on  that  of  his  wife.  "I  will  not  play  the  bully's 
part,  Kate,"  he  promised  her.  "If  he  is  worth  a  chance 
he  will  get  it,  but  I  am  not  a  human  Christmas  tree. 
He  will  have  to  earn  it."  After  a  silence  of  several  sec 
onds  he  added,  "Please  God  he  will  whip  me  yet.  His 
head  is  bloody  but  unbowed.  It  would  be  terrible  to 
spoil  him." 


XX 


MIGUEL  FARREL  pulled  up  his  pinto  on  the  brow 
of  a  hill  which,  along  the  Atlantic  seaboard, 
would  have  received  credit  for  being  a  mountain,  and 
gazed  down  into  the  Agua  Caliente  basin.  Half  a 
mile  to  his  right,  the  slope  dipped  into  a  little  saddle 
and  then  climbed  abruptly  to  the  shoulder  of  El  Palo- 
mar,  the  highest  peak  in  San  Marcos  County.  The 
saddle  was  less  than  a  hundred  yards  wide,  and  through 
the  middle  of  it  a  deep  arroyo  had  been  eroded  by  the 
Rio  San  Gregorio  tumbling  down  from  the  hills  during 
the  rainy  season.  This  was  the  only  outlet  to  the 
Agua  Caliente  basin,  and  Don  Mike  saw  at  a  glance 
that  Parker's  engineers  had  discovered  this,  for 
squarely  in  the  outlet  a  dozen  two-horse  teams  were 
working,  scraping  out  the  foundation  for  the  huge  con 
crete  dam  for  which  Parker  had  contracted.  Up  the 
side  of  El  Palomar  peak,  something  that  resembled  a 
great  black  snake  had  been  stretched,  and  Earrel  nod 
ded  approvingly  as  he  observed  it. 

"Good  idea,  that,  to  lay  a  half-mile  of  twelve-inch 
steel  pipe  up  to  that  limestone  deposit,"  he  remarked 
to  Parker,  who  had  reined  his  horse  beside  Don  Mike's. 
"Only  way  to  run  your  crushed  rock  down  to  the  con 
crete  mixer  at  the  dam-site.  You'll  save  a  heap  of 
money  on  delivering  the  rock,  at  any  rate.  Who's  your 
contractor,  Mr.  Parker  ?" 

"A  man  named  Conway." 
200 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  201 

"Old  Bill  Conway,  of  Santa  Barbara?" 

"The  same,  I  believe,"  Parker  replied,  without  in 
terest. 

"Great  old  chap,  Bill!  One  of  my  father's  best 
friends,  although  he  was  twenty  years  younger  than 
dad.  He  must  feel  at  home  on  the  Rancho  Palomar." 

Mrs.  Parker  could  not  refrain  from  asking  why. 

"Well,  ever  since  Bill  Conway  was  big  enough  to 
throw  a  leg  over  a  horse  and  hold  a  gun  to  his  shoulder, 
he's  been  shooting  deer  and  quail  and  coursing  coyotes 
on  this  ranch.  Whenever  he  felt  the  down-hill  drag, 
he  invited  himself  up  to  visit  us.  Hello!  Why,  I  be 
lieve  the  old  horse-thief  is  down  there  now;  at  least 
that's  his  automobile.  I'd  know  that  ruin  anywhere. 
He  bought  it  in  1906,  and  swears  he's  going  to  wear 
it  out  if  it  takes  a  lifetime.  Let's  go  down  and  see 
what  they're  up  to  there.  Come  on,  folks !"  And, 
without  waiting  to  see  whether  or  not  he  was  followed, 
he  urged  the  pinto  over  the  crest  and  rode  down  the 
hillside  at  top  speed,  whooping  like  a  wild  Indian  to 
attract  the  attention  of  Bill  Conway.  In  a  shower 
of  weeds  and  gravel  the  pinto  slid  on  his  hind  quarters 
down  over  the  cut-bank  where  the  grading  operations 
had  bitten  into  the  hillside,  and  landed  with  a  grunt 
among  the  teams  and  scrapers. 

"Bill  Conway !  Front  and  center !"  yelled  the  master 
of  Palomar. 

"Here!  What's  the  row?"  a  man  shouted,  and,  from 
a  temporary  shack  office  a  hundred  yards  away,  a  man 
stepped  out. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  cutting  into  my  dam-site 
without  my  permission?"  Farrel  yelled  and  drove 
straight  at  the  contractor.  "Hey,  there,  old  settler! 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Mike  Farrel,  alive  and  kicking!"  He  left  the  saddle 
while  the  pinto  was  still  at  a  gallop,  landed  on  his  feet 
in  front  of  Bill  Ccnway  and  took  that  astounded  old 
disciple  of  dump-wagon  and  scraper  in  a  bearlike  em 
brace. 

"Miguel !  You  young  scoundrel  !"  Conway  yelled, 
and  forthwith  he  beat  Farrel  between  the  shoulder- 
blades  with  a  horny  old  fist  and  cursed  him  lovingly. 

"Cut  out  the  profanity,  Mr.  Conway,"  Don  Mike 
warned  him.  "Some  ladies  are  about  due  on  the  job." 

"WhenM  you  light  in  the  Palomar,  boy?  Gimme 
your  hand.  What  the — say,  ain't  it  a  pity  the  old  man 
couldn't  have  lasted  until  you  got  back?  Ain't  it,  now, 
son?" 

"A  very  grea£  pity,  Mr.  Conway.  I  got  home  last 
night." 

"Boy,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Say,  you  ran  into  sur 
prises,  didn't  you?"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  con 
fidentially. 

"Rather.  But,  then,  so  did  the  other  fellow.  In 
fact,  sir,  a  very  pleasant  time  was  had  by  all.  By  the 
way,  I  hope  you're  not  deluding  yourself  with  the  be 
lief  that  I'm  going  to  pay  you  for  building  this  dam." 

"By  Judas  priest,"  the  alert  old  contractor  roared, 
"you  certainly  do  file  a  bill  of  complications !  I'll  have 
to  see  Parker  about  this  right  away — why,  here  he  is 
now." 

The  Parkers  had  followed  more  decorously  than  had 
Farrel;  nevertheless,  they  had  arrived  in  more  or  less 
of  a  hurry.  John  Parker  rode  directly  to  Conway 
and  Farrel. 

"Well,  Mr.  Conway,"  he  shouted  pleasantly,  "the 
lost  sheep  is  found  again." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  203 

"Whereat  there  is  more  rejoicing  in  San  Marcos 
County  than  there  will  be  over  the  return  of  some  other 
sheep — and  a  few  goats — I  know  of.  How  do  you  do, 
Mr.  Parker?"  Conway  extended  his  hand,  and,  as 
Kay  and  her  mother  rode  up,  Farrel  begged  their  per 
mission  to  present  him  to  them.  Followed  the  usual 
commonplaces  of  introduction,  which  Farrel  presently 
interrupted. 

"Well,  you  confounded  old  ditch-digger !  How  about 
you?" 

"Still  making  little  rocks  out  of  big  ones,  son.  Say, 
Mr.  Parker,  how  do  we  stack  up  on  this  contract,  now 
that  Little  Boy  Blue  is  back  on  the  Palomar,  blowing 
his  horn?" 

Parker  strove  gallantly  to  work  up  a  cheerful  grin. 

"Oh,  he's  put  a  handful  of  emery  dust  in  my  bear 
ings,  confound  him,  Mr.  Conway !  It  begins  to  look 
as  if  I  had  leaped  before  looking." 

"Very  reprehensible  habit,  Mr.  Parker.  Well — I'm 
getting  so  old  and  worthless  nowadays  that  I  make  it 
a  point  to  look  before  I  leap.  Mike,  my  son,  do  you 
happen  to  be  underwriting  this  contract?" 

Don  Mike  looked  serious.  He  pursed  his  lips,  arched 
his  brows,  drew  some  bills  and  small  coins  from  his 
pocket,  and  carefully  counted  them. 

"The  liquid  assets  of  the  present  owner  of  that  dirt 
you're  making  so  free  with,  Mr.  Conway,  total  exactly 
sixty-seven  dollars  and  nine  cents.  And  I  never 
thought  the  day  would  come  when  a  pair  of  old-time 
Californians  like  us  would  stoop  to  counting  copper 
pennies.  Before  I  joined  the  army,  I  used  to  give  them 
away  to  the  cholo  children,  and  when  there  were  no 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

youngsters  handy  to  give  the  pennies  to,  I  used  to 
throw  them  away." 

"Yes,"  Bill  Conway  murmured  sadly.  "And  ,1  re 
member  the  roar  that  went  up  from  the  old-timers  five 
years  ago  when  the  Palace  Hotel  in  San  Francisco  re 
duced  the  price  of  three  fingers  of  straight  whisky  from 
twenty-five  cents  to  fifteen.  Boy,  they're  crowding  us 
out." 

"Who's  been  doing  most  of  the  crowding  in  San 
Marcos  County  while  I've  been  away,  Mr.  Conway?" 
Farrel  queried  innocently. 

"Japs,  my  son.  Say,  they're  comin'  in  here  by  the 
ship-load." 

"You  don't  tell  me!  Why,  two  years  ago  there 
wasn't  a  Jap  in  San  Marcos  County  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  couple  of  shoemakers  and  a  window-washing 
outfit  in  El  Toro." 

"Well,  those  hombres  aren't  mending  shoes  or  wash 
ing  windows  any  more,  Miguel.  They  saved  their 
money  and  now  they're  farming — garden-track  mostly. 
There  must  be  a  thousand  Japanese  in  the  county  now 
— all  farmers  or  farm-laborers.  They're  leasing  and 
buying  every  acre  of  fertile  land  they  can  get  hold  of." 

"Have  they  acquired  much  acreage?" 

"Saw  a  piece  in  the  El  Toro  Sentinel  last  week  to  the 
effect  that  nine  thousand  and  twenty  acres  have  been 
alienated  to  the  Japs  up  to  the  first  of  the  year. 
Nearly  all  the  white  men  have  left  La  Questa  valley 
since  the  Japs  discovered  they  could  raise  wonderful 
winter  celery  there." 

"But  where  do  these  Japanese  farmers  come  from, 
Mr.  Conway?"  Parker  inquired.  "They  do  not  come 
from  Japan  because,  under  the  gentlemen's  agreement. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  205 

Japan  restricts  emigration  of  her  coolie  classes." 
"Well,  now,"  Bill  Conway  began  judicially.  "I'll 
give  Japan  the  benefit  of  any  doubts  I  have  as  to  the 
sincerity  with  which  she  enforces  this  gentlemen's  agree 
ment.  The  fact  remains,  however,  that  she  does  not 
restrict  emigration  to  Mexico,  and,  unfortunately, 
we  have  an  international  boundary  a  couple  of  thou 
sand  miles  long  and  stretching  through  a  sparsely 
settled,  brushy  country.  To  guard  our  southern  boun 
dary  in  such  an  efficient  manner  that  no  Jap  could 
possibly  secure  illegal  entry  to  the  United  States  via 
the  line,  we  would  have  to  have  sentries  scattered  at 
hundred-yard  intervals  and  closer  than  that  on  dark 
nights.  The  entire  standing  army  of  the  United  States 
would  be  required  for  the  job.  In  addition  to  the 
handicap  of  this  unprotected  boundary,  we  have  a  fif 
teen-hundred-mile  coast-line  absolutely  unguarded. 
Japanese  fishermen  bring  their  nationals  up  from  the 
Mexican  coast  in  their  trawlers  and  set  them  ashore  on 
the  southern  California  coast.  At  certain  times  of  the 
year,  any  landlubber  can  land  through  the  surf  at  low 
tide ;  in  fact,  ownerless  skiffs  are  picked  up  on  the 
south-coast  beaches  right  regularly." 

"Well,  you  can't  blame  the  poor  devils  for  wanting 
to  come  to  this  wonderful  country,  Mr.  Conway.  It 
holds  for  them  opportunities  far  greater  than  in  their 
own  land." 

"True,  Mr.  Parker.  But  their  gain  is  our  loss,  and, 
as  a  matter  of  common  sense,  I  fail  to  see  why  we 
should  accord  equal  opportunity  to  an  unwelcome 
visitor  who  enters  our  country  secretly  and  illegally. 
I  grant  you  it  would  prove  too  expensive  and  annoying 
to  make  a  firm  effort  to  stop  this  illegal  immigration 


206  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

by  preventive  measures  along  our  international  bound 
ary  and  coast-line,  but  if  we  destroy  the  Jap's  oppor 
tunity  for  profit  at  our  expense,  we  will  eliminate  the 
main  incentive  for  his  secret  and  illegal  entry,  which 
entry  is  always  very  expensive.  I  believe  seven  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  is  the  market-price  for  smuggling 
Japs  and  Chinamen  into  the  United  States  of  America." 

"But  we  should  take  steps  to  discover  these  immi 
grants  after  they  succeed  in  making  entry " 

"Rats  !"  the  bluff  old  contractor  interrupted.  "How 
are  we  going  to  do  that  under  present  conditions  ?  The 
cry  of  the  country  is  for  economy  in  governmental  af 
fairs,  so  Congress  prunes  the  already  woefully  inade 
quate  appropriation  for  the  Department  of  Labor  and 
keeps  our  force  of  immigration  inspectors  down  to  the 
absolute  minimum.  These  inspectors  are  always  oil 
the  job;  the  few  we  have  are  splendid,  loyal  servants 
of  the  government,  and  they  prove  it  by  catching  Japs, 
Chinamen,  and  Hindus  every  day  in  the  week.  But  for 
every  illegal  entrant  they  apprehend,  ten  escape  and 
are  never  rounded  up.  Confound  them ;  they  all  look 
alike,  anyhow !  How  are  you  going  to  distinguish  one 
Jap  from  another? 

"Furthermore,  Mr.  Parker,  you  must  bear  this  fact 
in  mind :  The  country  at  large  is  not  interested  in  the 
problem  of  Oriental  immigration.  It  hasn't  thought 
about  it ;  it  doesn't  know  anything  about  it  except  what 
the  Japs  have  told  it,  and  a  Jap  is  the  greatest  natural- 
born  liar  and  purveyor  of  half-truths  and  sugar-coated 
misinformation  this  world  has  known." 

"Easy,  old  timer!"  Don  Mike  soothed,  laying  his 
hand  on  Conway's  shoulder.  "Don't  let  your  angry 
passions  rise." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  207 

Conway  grinned. 

"I  always  fly  into  a  rage  when  I  get  talking  about 
Japs,"  he  explained  deprecatingly  to  the  ladies.  "And 
it's  such  a  helpless,  hopeless  rage.  There's  no  outlet 
for  it.  You  see,"  he  began  all  over  again,  "the  dratted 
Jap  propagandist  is  so  smart — he's  so  cunning  that  he 
has  capitalized  the  fact  that  California  was  the  first 
state  to  protest  against  the  Japanese  invasion.  He  has 
made  the  entire  country  believe  that  this  is  a  dirty 
little  local  squabble  of  no  consequence  to  our  country  at 
large.  He  keeps  the  attention  of  forty-seven  states  on 
California  while  he  quietly  proceeds  to  colonize  Oregon, 
Washington,  and  parts  of  Utah.  Lately  he  has  passed 
blithely  over  the  hot,  lava-strewn,  and  fairly  non-irri 
gated  state  of  Arizona  to  the  more  fertile  agricultural 
lands  of  Texas.  And  yet  a  couple  of  hundred  prize 
boobs  in  Congress  talk  sagely  about  an  amicable  set 
tlement  of  the  Jap  problem  in  California !  When  they 
want  information,  they  consult  the  Japanese  ambassa 
dor!" 

"But  why,"  Kay  ventured  to  ask,  "do  the  Japanese 
not  acquire  agricultural  lands  in  the  Middle  West? 
There  are  no  restrictions  in  those  states  in  the  matter 
of  outright  purchases  of  land,  and  surely  the  soil  is 
fertile  enough  to  suit  the  most  exacting  Jap." 

"Ah,  young  lady,"  Bill  Conway  boomed.  "I'm  glad 
you  asked  me  that  question.  The  Jap  is  a  product  of 
the  temperate  zone ;  he  does  not  take  kindly  to  extremes 
of  heat  and  cold.  Unlike  the  white  man  he  cannot 
stand  such  extremes  and  function  with  efficiency. 
That's  why  the  extreme  northern  part  of  Japan,  which 
is  very  cold  in  winter,  is  so  sparsely  populated,  al 
though  excellent  agricultural  land.  Why  freeze  to 


208  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

death  up  there  when,  by  merely  following1  the  Japan 
Current  as  it  laves  the  west  coast  of  North  America 
from  British  Columbia  down,  one  can,  in  a  pinch,  dis 
pense  with  an  overcoat  in  January?" 

"Enough  of  this  anti-Japanese  propaganda  of  yours, 
Senor  Conway,"  Don  Mike  interrupted.  "Our  friends 
here  haven't  listened  to  anything  else  since  I  got  home 
last  night.  Mr.  Parker,  being  quite  ignorant  of  the 
real  issue,  has,  of  course,  fallen  under  the  popular  de 
lusion  ;  and  I've  been  trying  my  best  to  lead  him  to  the 
mourner's  bench,  to  convince  him  that  when  he  ac 
quires  the  Rancho  Palomar — which,  by  the  way,  will 
not  be  for  at  least  a  year,  now  that  I've  turned  up  to 
nullify  his  judgment  of  foreclosure — that  it  will  be  a 
far  more  patriotic  action  on  his  part,  even  if  less  profit 
able,  to  colonize  the  San  Gregorio  with  white  men  in 
stead  of  Japs.  In  fact,  Mr.  Parker,  I  wouldn't  be  sur 
prised  if  you  should  succeed  in  putting  through  a  very 
profitable  deal  with  the  state  of  California  to  colonize 
the  valley  with  ex-soldiers." 

Old  Bill  Conway  turned  upon  John  Parker  a  smold 
ering  gaze. 

"So  I'm  building  a  dam  to  irrigate  a  lot  of  Jap 
truck-gardens,  am  I?"  he  rumbled. 

The  sly,  ingenious  manner  in  which  Miguel  Farrel 
had  so  innocently  contrived  to  strew  his  already  rough 
path  with  greater  obstacles,  infuriated  Parker,  and  for 
an  instant  he  lost  control  of  himself. 

"What  do  you  care  what  it's  for,  Conway,  provided 
you  make  your  profit  out  of  the  contract?"  he  de 
manded  brusquely. 

"Ladies,"  the  contractor  replied,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Parker  and  Kay,  "I  trust  you  will  pardon  me  for  dis- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  209 

cussing  business  in  your  presence  just  for  a  minute. 
Miguel,  am  I  to  understand  that  this  ranch  is  still 
Farrel  property?" 

"You  bet !    And  for  a  year  to  come." 

"Then  I  gather  that  Mr.  Parker  has  contracted  with 
me  to  build  a  dam  on  your  land  and  without  your  ap 
proval.  Am  I  right?" 

"You  are,  Mr.  Conway.  I  am  not  even  contemplat 
ing  giving  my  approval  to  the  removal  of  another 
scraper  of  dirt  from  that  excavation." 

Conway  faced  Parker. 

"Am  I  to  continue  operations?"  he  demanded.  "I 
have  a  cost-plus-fifteen-per-cent.  contract  with  you, 
Mr.  Parker,  and  if  you  are  not  going  to  be  in  position 
to  go  through  with  it,  I  want  to  know  it  now." 

"In  the  absence  of  Mr.  FarrePs  permission,  I  have 
no  alternative  save  to  ask  you  to  suspend  operations, 
Mr.  Conway,"  Parker  answered  bitterly.  "I  expect,  of 
course,  to  settle  with  you  for  the  abrupt  cancellation 
of  the  contract,  but  I  believe  we  are  both  reasonable 
men  and  that  no  difficulty  will  arise  in  that  direction." 

"I'm  naturally  disappointed,  Mr.  Parker.  I  have  a 
good  crew  and  I  like  to  keep  the  men  busy — particu 
larly  when  good  men  are  as  hard  to  procure  as  they 
are  nowadays.  However,  I  realize  your  predicament, 
and  I  never  was  a  great  hand  to  hit  a  man  when  he  was 
down." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Conway.  If  you  will  drop  in  at 
the  ranch-house  to-morrow  for  dinner,  we  can  put  you 
up  for  the  night,  I  dare  say."  He  glanced  at  Farrel, 
who  nodded.  "We  can  then  take  up  the  matter  of 
compensation  for  the  cancelled  contract." 

"In  the  meantime,   then,   I   might   as   well   call   the 


210  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

job  off  and  stop  the  expense,"  Conway  suggested. 
"We'll  load  up  the  equipment  and  pull  out  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"Why  be  so  precipitate,  Mr.  Conway?"  Don  Mike 
objected,  almost  fiercely.  "You  always  were  the  most 
easy-going,  tender-hearted  old  scout  imaginable,  and 
that's  why  you've  never  been  able  to  afford  a  new  auto 
mobile.  Now,  I  have  a  proposition  to  submit  to  you, 
Mr.  Conway,  and  inasmuch  as  it  conflicts  radically  with 
Mr.  Parker's  interests,  I  feel  that  common  courtesy  to 
him  indicates  that  I  should  voice  that  proposition  in  his 
presence.  With  the  greatest  good  will  in  life  toward 
each  other,  nevertheless  we  are  implacable  opponents. 
Mr.  Parker  has  graciously  spread,  face  up  on  the 
table  for  my  inspection,  an  extremely  hard  hand  to 
beat;  so  now  it's  quite  in  order  for  me  to  spring  my 
little  joker  and  try  to  take  the  odd  trick.  Mr.  Con- 
way,  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me.  Not  for  my 
sake  or  the  sake  of  my  dead  father,  who  was  a  good 
friend  of  yours,  but  for  the  sake  of  this  state  where 
we  were  both  born  and  which  we  love  because  it  is  sym 
bolical  of  the  United  States.  I  want  you  to  stand  pat 
and  refuse  to  cancel  this  contract.  Insist  on  going 
through  with  it  and  make  Mr.  Parker  pay  for  it.  He 
can  afford  it,  and  he  is  good  for  it.  He  will  not  repu 
diate  a  promise  to  pay  while  he  has  money  in  bank  or 
securities  to  hypothecate.  He  is  absolutely  respon 
sible  financially.  He  owns  a  controlling  interest  in 
the  First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro,  and  he  has  a 
three-hundred-thousand-dollar  equity  in  this  ranch  in 
the  shape  of  a  first  mortgage  ripe  for  foreclosure — 
you  can  levy  on  those  assets  if  he  declines  to  go 
through  with  the  contract.  Force  him  to  go  through; 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

force  him,  old  friend  of  my  father  and  mine  and  enemy 
of  all  Japanese !  For  God's  sake,  stand  by  me !  I'm 
desperate,  Mr.  Conway 

"Call  me  'Bill,'  son,"  Conway  interrupted  gently. 

"You  know  what  the  Farrels  have  been  up  against 
always,  Bill,"  Don  Mike  pleaded.  "That  easy-going 
Spanish  blood !  But,  Bill,  I'm  a  throw-back.  By  God, 
I  am!  Give  me  this  chance — this  God-given  chance — 
and  the  fifty-per-cent.  Celtic  strain  in  me  and  the 
hventy-five-per-cent.  Gaelic  that  came  with  my  G.al- 
vez  blood  will  save  the  San  Gregorio  to  white  men! 
Give  me  the  water,  Bill;  give  me  the  water  that  will 
make  my  valley  bloom  in  the  August  heat,  and  then, 
with  the  tremendous  increase  in  the  value  of  the  land, 
I'll  find  somebody,  some  place,  who  will  trust  me  for 
three  hundred  thousand  paltry  dollars  to  give  this  man 
and  save  my  ranch.  This  is  a  white-man's  country, 
and  John  Parker  is  striving,  for  a  handful  of  silver, 
to  betray  us  and  make  it  a  yellow  paradise." 

His  voice  broke  under  the  stress  of  his  emotion;  he 
gulped  and  the  tears  welled  to  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  Bill,  for  God's  sake  don't  fail  me!"  he  begged. 
"You're  a  Calif  oniian !  You've  seen  the  first  Japs 
come !  Only  fifteen  years  ago,  they  were  such  a  rare 
sight  the  little  boys  used  to  chase  them  and  throw 
rocks  at  them  just  to  see  them  run  in  terror.  But  the 
little  boys  do  not  throw  rocks  at  them  now,  and  they 
no  longer  run.  They  have  the  courage  of  numbers 
and  the  prompt  and  forceful  backing  of  a  powerful 
fraternity  across  the  Pacific.  You've  seen  them  spread 
gradually  over  the  land — why,  Bill,  just  think  of  the 
San  Gregorio  five  years  hence — the  San  Gregorio 


THE  FRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

where  you  and  I  have  hunted  quail  since  I  was  ten 
years  old.    You  gave  me  my  first  shot-gun " 

"Sonny,"  said  old  Bill  Conway  gently,  passing  his 
arm  across  Farrel's  shoulders,  "I  wish  to  goodness 
you'd  shut  up !  I  haven't  got  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  nor  a  tenth  of  it.  If  I  had  it  I'd  give  it  to 
you  now  and  save  argument.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
have  got,  son,  and  that's  a  sense  of  humor.  It's  kept 
me  poor  all  my  life,  but  if  you  think  it  will  make  you 
rich  you're  welcome  to  it."  He  looked  up,  and  his 
glance  met  Kay's.  "This  chap's  a  limited  edition,"  he 
informed  her  gravely.  "After  the  Lord  printed  one 
volume,  he  destroyed  the  plates.  Mr.  Parker,  sir — 
He  stepped  up  to  John  Parker  and  smote  the  latter 
lightly  on  the  breast — "Tag ;  you're  it !"  he  announced 
pleasantly.  "I'll  cancel  this  contract  when  you  hand 
me  a  certified  check  for  twenty-four  billion,  nine- 
hundred  and  eighty-two  million,  four  hundred  and 
seventeen  thousand,  six  hundred  and  one  dollars,  nine 
cents,  and  two  mills." 

"Conway,"  Parker  answered  him  quietly,  "I  like 
your  sense  of  humor,  even  if  it  does  hurt.  However, 
you  force  me  to  fight  the  devil  with  fire.  Still,  for  the 
sake  of  the  amenities,  we  should  always  make  formal 
declaration  of  war  before  beginning  hostilities." 

"And  that's  a  trick  you  didn't  learn  in  Japan,"  the 
old  contractor  reminded  him. 

"So  I  hereby  declare  war.  I'm  a  past  master  at 
holding  hard  to  whatever  I  do  not  wish  the  other  fellow 
to  take  away  from  me,  so  build  your  dam  and  be 
damned  to  you.  Of  course,  if  you  complete  your  con 
tract  eventually,  you  will  force  me  to  pay  you  for  it, 
but  in  the  interim  you  will  have  had  to  use  clam-shells 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

and  woodpecker  heads  for  money.  I  know  I  can  stave 
off  settlement  of  your  judgment  for  a  year;  after  that, 
should  I  acquire  title  to  the  Rancho  Palomar,  I  will 
settle  with  you  promptly." 

"And  if  you  shouldn't  acquire  title,  I  shall  look  to 
my  young  friend,  Don  Miguel  Farrel,  for  reimburse 
ment.  While  at  present  the  future  may  look  as  black 
to  Mike  as  the  Earl  of  Hell's  riding-boots,  his  credit 
is  good  with  me.  Is  this  new  law  you've  promulgated 
retroactive?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You'll  settle  with  me  for  all  work  performed  up  to 
the  moment  of  this  break  in  diplomatic  relations,  won't 
you?" 

"That's  quite  fair,  Conway.  I'll  do  that."  Despite 
the  chagrin  of  having  to  wage  for  the  nonce  a  losing 
battle,  Parker  laughed  heartily  and  with  genuine  sin 
cerity.  Don  Mike  joined  with  him  and  the  charged 
atmosphere  cleared  instantly. 

"Bill  Conway,  you're  twenty-four  carat  all  through." 
Farrel  laid  a  hand  affectionately  on  his  father's  old 
friend.  "Be  sure  to  come  down  to  the  hacienda  to 
morrow  night  and  get  your  check.  We  dine  at  six- 
thirty." 

"As  is?"  Conway  demanded,  surveying  his  rusty  old 
business  suit  and  hard,  soiled  hands. 

"  'As  is,'  Bill." 

"Fine !  Well,  we've  come'  to  a  complete  understand 
ing  without  falling  out  over  it,  haven't  we?"  he  de 
manded  of  Kay  and  her  mother.  "With  malice  toward 
none  and  justice  toward  all — or  words  to  that  ef 
fect,  Eh?" 

"Oh,  get  back  into  your  office,  Conway,  and  cast  up 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  account  against  me.  Figure  a  full  day  for  the  men 
and  the  mules,  although  our  break  came  at  half-past 
three.  I'm  a  contrary  man,  but  I'm  not  small.  Come 
on,  Mr.  Farrel,  let's  go  home,"  Parker  suggested. 

"Little  birds  in  their  nest  should  agree,"  old  Conway 
warned,  as,  with  a  sweep  of  his  battered  old  hat  to  the 
ladies,  he  turned  to  re-enter  his  office.  With  a  nod  of 
farewell,  John  Parker  and  his  wife  started  riding  down 
the  draw,  while  Farrel  turned  to  unloosen  his  saddle- 
girth  and  adjust  the  heavy  stock-saddle  on  the  pinto's 
back.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  Kay  rode  up  to  the 
door  of  Ccnway's  rough  little  office,  bent  down  from 
Panchito,  and  peered  in. 

"Bill  Conway !"  she  called  softly. 

Bill  Conway  came  to  the  door. 

"What's  the  big  idea,  Miss  Parker?" 

The  girl  glanced  around  and  saw  that  Don  Mike 
was  busy  with  the  latigo,  so  she  leaned  down,  drew  her 
arm  around  the  astounded  Conway's  neck,  and  im 
planted  on  his  ruddy,  bristly  cheek  a  kiss  as  soft — so 
Bill  Conway  afterward  described  it — as  goose-hair. 

"You  build  that  dam,"  she  whispered,  blushing  furi 
ously,  "and  see  to  it  that  it's  a  good  dam  and  will  hold 
water  for  years.  I'm  the  reserve  in  this  battle — un 
derstand?  When  you  need  money,  see  me,  but,  oh, 
please  do  not  tell  Don  Mike  about  it.  I'd  die  of 
shame." 

She  whirled  Panchito  and  galloped  down  the  draw, 
with  Miguel  Farrel  loping  along  behind  her,  while,  from 
the  door  of  his  shack  of  an  office,  old  Bill  Conway 
looked  after  them  and  thoughtfully  rubbed  a  certain 
spot  on  his  cheek.  Long  after  the  young  folks  had 
disappeared  round  the  base  of  El  Palomar,  he  con- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  215 

tinned  to  gaze.  Eventually  he  was  brought  out  of  his 
reverie  when  a  cur  dog  belonging  to  one  of  the  team 
sters  on  the  grading  gang  thrust  a  cold  muzzle  into 
his  hand. 

"Purp,"  murmured  Mr.  Conway,  softly,  "this  isn't 
a  half-bad  old  world,  even  if  a  fellow  does  grow  old, 
and  finds  himself  hairless  and  childless  and  half  broke 
and  shackled  to  the  worst  automobile  in  the  world,  bar 
none.  And  do  you  know  why  it  isn't  such  a  rotten 
world  as  some  folks  claim?  No?  Well,  I'll  tell  you, 
purp.  It's  because  it  keeps  a-movin'.  And  do  you 
mow  what  keeps  it  a-movin'?  Purp,  it's  love!" 


XXI 

AT  the  base  of  El  Palomar,  Farrel  and  his  party 
were  met  by  the  Parker  chauffeur  with  the 
car.  Pablo  had  guided  him  out  and  was  lounging  im 
portantly  in  the  seat  beside  William. 

"Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  came  to  the  hacienda  art 
hour  ago,  Don  Miguel,"  he  reported.  "He  brought 
with  him  three  others ;  all  have  gone  forth  to  take  pos 
session  of  Loustalot's  sheep." 

Farrel  nodded  and  dismounted  to  assist  Mrs.  Parkei* 
as  the  latter  came  down  from  her  horse,  somewhat 
stiffly.  When  he  turned  to  perform  a  similar  office  for 
her  daughter,  however,  the  girl  smilingly  shook  her 
head. 

"I  shipped  for  the  cruise,  Don  Mike,"  she  assured 
him.  "May  I  ride  home  with  you?  Remember,  you've 
got  to  pick  up  your  rope  and  that  panther's  pelt." 
Her  adorable  face  flushed  faintly  as  her  gaze  sought 
her  mother's.  "I  have  never  seen  a  panther  undressed," 
she  protested. 

"Well,"  her  amiable  mother  replied,  with  her  cus 
tomary  hearty  manner,  "far  be  it  from  me  to  deprive 
you  of  that  interesting  sight.  Take  good  care  of  her, 
Miguel.  I  hold  you  responsible  for  her." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  trust  me  so." 

Both  Parker  and  his  wife  rioted  that  his  words  were 
216 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

not  mere  polite  patter.  Farrel's  gravely  courteous 
bearing,  his  respectful  bow  to  Mrs.  Parker  and  the 
solemnity  with  which  he  spoke  impressed  them  with 
the  conviction  that  this  curious  human  study  in  light 
and  shadow  regarded  their  approval  as  an  honor,  not 
a  privilege. 

"I  shall  take  very  good  care  of  Miss  Kay,"  he  sup 
plemented.  "We  shall  be  home  for  dinner." 

He  mounted  the  gray  gelding,  leaving  Pablo  to  fol 
low  with  the  black  mare  and  the  pinto,  while  he  and 
Kay  cantered  down  the  wide  white  wash  of  the  Rio 
San  Gregorio. 

From  their  semi-concealment  among  the  young  wil 
low  growth,  scrub  cattle  gazed  at  them  or  fled,  with 
tails  aloft,  for  more  distant  thickets;  cottontail  rab 
bits  and  an  occasional  jack-rabbit,  venturing  forth  as 
the  shadows  grew  long  in  the  valley,  flashed  through 
the  low  sage  and  weeds ;  from  the  purpling  hillsides 
cock  quails  called  cheerily  to  their  families  to  come 
right  home.  The  air  was  still  and  cool,  heavy  with  the 
perfume  of  sage,  blackberry  briars,  yerba  santa,  an 
occasional  bay  tree,  and  the  pungent  odor  of  moist 
earth  and  decaying  vegetation.  There  had  fallen  upon 
the  land  that  atmosphere  of  serenity,  of  peace,  that  is 
the  peculiar  property  of  California's  foothill  valleys 
in  the  late  afternoon;  the  world  seemed  very  distant 
and  not  at  all  desirable,  and  to  Kay  there  came  a  sud 
den,  keen  realization  of  how  this  man  beside  her  must 
love  this  darkling  valley  with  the  hills  above  pre 
senting  their  flower-clad  breasts  to  the  long  spears  of 
light  from  the  dying  day.  .  .  . 

Don  Mike  had  caught  the  spirit  of  the  little  chor- 


218  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

isters  of  his  hidden  valley,  she  heard  him  singing  softly 
in  rather  a  pleasing  baritone  voice: 

Pienso  en  ti,  Teresita  mia,  5 

Cuando  la  luna  alumbra  la  tierra 
He  sentido  el  fuego  de  tus  ojos, 
He  sentido  las  penas  del  amor. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  she  demanded,  imperiously. 

"Oh,  it's  a  very  ordinary  little  sentiment,  Miss  Kay. 
The  Spanish  cavalier,  having  settled  himself  under 
his  lady's  window,  thrums  a  preliminary  chord  or  two, 
just  to  let  her  and  the  family  know  he's  not  working 
on  the  sly ;  then  he  says  in  effect :  *I  think  of  thee,  my 
little  Tessie,  when  the  moonlight  is  shining  on  the 
world ;  your  bright  eyes  have  me  going  for  fair,  kid, 
and  due  to  a  queer  pain  in  my  interior,  I  know  I'm  in 
love.' " 

"You  outrageous  Celt !" 

He  chuckled.  "A  Spaniard  takes  his  love  very  seri 
ously.  He's  got  to  be  sad  and  despairing  about  it,  even 
when  he  knows  very  well  the  girl  is  saying  to  herself: 
Tor  heaven's  sake,  when  will  this  windy  bird  get  down 
to  brass  tacks  and  pop  the  question?'  He  droops  like 
a  stale  eschscholtzia,  only,  unlike  that  flower  he  hasn't 
sense  enough  to  shut  up  for  the  night !" 

Her  beaming  face  turned  toward  him  was  ample  re 
ward  for  his  casual  display  of  Celtic  wit,  his  knowledge 
of  botany.  And  suddenly  she  saw  his  first  real  smile — a 
flash  of  beautiful  white  teeth  and  a  wrinkling  of  the 
skin  around  the  merry  eyes.  It  came  and  went  like 
a  flicker  of  lightning;  the  somber  man  was  an  in 
souciant  lad  again. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  219 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  across  the  valley  they  found 
the  torn  and  mutilated  carcass  of  a  heifer,  with  a 
d,ay-old  calf  grieving  beside  her. 

"This  is  the  work  of  our  defunct  friend,  the  pan 
ther,"  Farrell  explained.  "He  had  made  his  kill  on  this 
little  heifer  and  eaten  heartily.  It  occurred  to  me  while 
we  were  chasing  him  that  he  was  logey.  Well — when 
Mike's  away  the  cats  will  play." 

He  reached  down,  grasped  the  calf  by  the  forelegs 
and  drew  the  forlorn  little  animal  up  before  him  on 
the  saddle.  As  it  stretched  out  quietly  across  his 
thighs,  following  a  half-hearted  struggle  to  escape, 
Kay  saw  Don  Mike  give  the  orphan  his  left  index  finger 
to  suck. 

"Not  much  sustenance  in  it,  is  there,  old  timer?"  he 
addressed  the  calf.  "Coyotes  would  have  had  you  to 
night  if  I  hadn't  passed  by." 

"What  a  tiny  calf,"  Kay  observed,  riding  close  to 
pat  the  sleek  head. 

"Pie's  scrubby  and  interbred;  his  mother  bore  him 
before  she  had  her  own  growth  and  a  hundred  genera 
tions  of  him  got  the  same  poor  start  in  life.  You've 
seen  people  like  this  little  runt.  He  really  isn't  worth 
carrying  home,  but " 

It  occurred  to  her  that  his  silence  was  eloquent  of 
the  inherent  generosity  of  the  man,  even  as  his  poetic 
outburst  of  a  few  minutes  before  had  been  eloquent  of 
the  minstrel  in  him.  She  rode  in  silence,  regarding  him 
critically  from  time  to  time,  and  when  they  came  to  the 
tree  where  the  panther  hung  he  gave  her  the  calf  to 
hold  while  he  deftly  skinned  the  dead  marauder,  tied 


220  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  pelt  behind  his  saddle,  relieved  her  of  the  calf  and 
jogged  away  toward  home. 

"Well,"  he  demanded,  presently,  "you  do  not  think 
any  the  less  of  me  for  what  I  did  to  your  father  this 
afternoon,  do  you?" 

"Of  course  not.  Nobody  likes  a  mollycoddle,"  she 
retorted. 

"A  battle  of  finances  between  your  father  and  me 
will  not  be  a  very  desperate  one.  A  gnat  attacking  a 
tiger.  I  shall  scarcely  interest  him.  I  am  predestined 
to  defeat." 

"But  with  Mr.  Conway's  aid " 

"Bill's  aid  will  not  amount  to  very  much.  He  was 
always  a  splendid  engineer  and  an  honest  builder,  but 
a  poor  business  man.  He  might  be  able  to  maintain 
work  on  the  dam  for  awhile,  but  in  the  end  lack  of 
adequate  finances  would  defeat  us.  And  I  have  no 
right  to  ask  Bill  to  sacrifice  the  profit  on  this  job 
which  your  father  is  willing  to  pay  him,  in  return  for 
a  cancellation  of  the  contract ;  I  have  no  right  to  ask 
or  expect  Bill  Conway  to  risk  a  penniless  old  age  for  me. 
You  see,  I  attacked  him  at  his  weakest  point — his 
heart.  It  was  selfish  of  me." 

She  could  not  combat  this  argument,  so  she  said 
nothing  and  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  her  companion 
rode  with  his  chin  on  his  breast,  in  silence.  What  a 
man  of  moods  he  was,  she  reflected. 

"You  despair  of  being  able  to  pay  my  father  the 
mortgage  and  regain  your  ranch?"  she  asked,  at 
length. 

He  nodded. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"But  you'll  fight  to  win — and  fight  to  the  finish,  will 
you  not  ?"  she  persisted. 

He  glanced  at  her  sharply.  "That  is  my  natural 
inclination,  Miss  Kay — when  I  permit  sentiment  to  rule 
me.  But  when  I  apply  the  principles  of  sound  horse 
sense — when  I  view  the  approach  of  the  conflict  as  a 
military  man  would  view  it,  I  am  forced  to  the  con 
viction  that  in  this  case  discretion  is  the  better  part 
of  valor.  Battles  are  never  won  by  valorous  fools  who 
get  themselves  killed  in  a  spectacular  manner." 

"I  see.  You  plan  to  attempt  the  sale  of  your  equity 
in  the  ranch  before  my  father  can  finally  foreclose  on 
you." 

"No,  that  would  be  the  least  profitable  course  to 
pursue.  A  hundred-thousand-acre  ranch  is  not  sold 
in  a  hurry  unless  offered  at  a  tremendous  sacrifice. 
Even  then  it  is  of  slow  sale.  For  the  following  reasons : 
Within  a  few  years,  what  with  the  rapid  growth  of  pop 
ulation  in  this  state  and  the  attrition  of  alien  farmers 
on  our  agricultural  lands,  this  wonderful  valley  land 
of  the  Rancho  Palomar  will  cease  to  be  assessed  as 
grazing  land.  It  is  agricultural  land  and  as  a  matter 
of  equity  it  ought  to  pay  taxes  to  the  state  on  that 
basis.  And  it  will.  I  do  not  know — I  have  never  heard 
of — a  cattleman  with  a  million  dollars  cash  on  hand, 
and  if  I  could  find  such  a  cattleman  who  was  looking 
for  a  hundred  thousand  acre  ranch  he  would  not  want 
half  of  it  to  be  agricultural  land  and  be  forced  to  bank 
rupt  himself  paying  taxes  on  it  as  such." 

"I  think  I  understand.  The  ranch  must  be  sold  to 
some  person  or  company  who  will  purchase  it  with  the 
idea  of  selling  half  of  the  ranch  as  grazing  land  and 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  valley  of  the  San  Gregorio  as  agricultural  land." 

"Quite  so.  I  would  have  to  interest  a  sub-division 
expert  whose  specialty  is  the  sale  of  small  farms,  on 
time  payments.  Well,  no  business  man  ever  contem 
plates  the  purchase,  at  a  top  price,  of  property  that 
is  to  be  sold  on  mortgage  foreclosure;  and  I  think  he 
would  be  an  optimist,  indeed,  who  would  bid  against 
your  father." 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  patiently,  "when  the 
ranch  is  sold  at  auction  to  satisfy  the  mortgage  your 
father  will  bid  it  in  at  the  amount  of  the  mortgage. 
It  is  improbable  that  he  will  have  to  pay  more." 

"Am  I  to  understand  then,  Don  Mike,  that  for  ap 
proximately  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  he  will  be 
enabled,  under  this  atrocious  code  of  business  morals, 
to  acquire  a  property  worth  at  least  a  million  dollars  ?" 

"Such  is  the  law — a  law  as  old  as  the  world  itself." 

"Why,  then,  the  whole  thing  is  absurdly  simple,  Don 
Mike.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  a  friend  to  bid 
against  my  father  and  run  the  price  up  on  him  to 
something  like  a  half-way  decent  sum.  In  that  way 
you  should  manage  to  save  a  portion  of  your  equity." 

He  bent  upon  her  a  benign  and  almost  paternal 
glance.  "You're  tremendously  sweet  to  put  that  flea 
in  my  ear,  Kay.  It's  a  wonderful  prescription,  but  it 
lacks  one  small  ingredient — the  wealthy,  courageous 
and  self-sacrificing  friend  who  will  consent  to  run  the 
sandy  on  3^our  astute  parent,  as  a  favor  to  me." 

She  gave  him  a  tender,  prescient  little  smile — the 
smile  of  one  who  sees  beyond  a  veil  objects  not  visible 
to  the  eyes  of  other  mortals. 

"Well,  even  if  he  is  my  dear  father  he  ought  to  be 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

nice  about  it  and  see  to  it  that  you  receive  a  fair  price 
for  your  equity."  She  clenched  her  little  fist.  "Why, 
Don  Mike,  that's  just  like  killing  the  wounded." 

"My  dear  girl,  I  do  not  blame  your  father  at  all. 
What  claim  have  I  on  his  sympathy  or  his  purse?  Pm 
a  stranger  to  him.  One  has  to  be  a  sport  in  such 
matters  and  take  the  blow  with  a  smile." 

"I  don't  care.  It's  all  wrong,"  she  replied  with 
spirit.  "And  I'm  going  to  tell  my  father  so." 

"Oh,  I've  thought  up  a  plan  for  escaping  with  a 
profit,"  he  assured  her,  lightly.  "It  will  leave  you  folks 
in  undisputed  possession  of  the  house  and  the  ranch, 
leave  Bill  Conway  free  to  proceed  with  his  valuable 
contract  and  leave  me  free  to  mount  Panchito  and  fare 
forth  to  other  and  more  virgin  fields — I  trust.  All  of 
this  within  a  period  of  forty-eight  hours." 

Was  it  fancy,  or  had  her  face  really  blanched  a 
little? 

"Why — why,  Don  Mike!     How  extraordinary!" 

"On  the  contrary,  quite  ordinary.  It's  absurdly 
simple.  I  need  some  getaway  money.  I  oughP  to  have 
it — and  I'm  going  to  get  it  by  the  oldest  known 
method — extortion  through  intimidation.  Your  father 
is  a  smart  man  and  he  will  see  the  force  of  my  argu 
ment." 

"He's  a  very  stubborn  man  and  doesn't  bluff  worth 
a  cent,"  she  warned  him  and  added:  "Particularly 
when  he  doesn't  like  one  or  when  he  is  angry.  And 
whatever  you  do,  do  not  threaten  him.  If  you  threaten 
him,  instantly  he  will  be  consumed  with  curiosity  to 
see  you  make  good." 


£24  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I  shall  not  threaten  him.  I  shall  merely  talk  busi 
ness  to  him.  That's  a  language  he  understands." 

"How  much  money  do  you  expect  to  realize?" 

"About  half  a  million  dollars." 

"In  return  for  what  ?" 

"A  quit  claim  deed  to  the  Rancho  Palomar.  He  can 
have  a  title  in  fee  simple  to  the  ranch  by  noon  to 
morrow  and  thus  be  spared  the  necessity  for  a  new 
suit  to  foreclose  that  accursed  mortgage  and  the  con 
comitant  wait  of  one  year  before  taking  possession. 
He  will  then  be  free  to  continue  his  well-drilling  and 
dam-building  in  Caliente  Basin ;  he  can  immediately  re 
sume  his  negotiations  with  Okada  for  the  purchase  of 
the  entire  valley  and  will  be  enabled,  in  all  probability, 
to  close  the  deal  at  a  splendid  profit.  Then  he  can 
proceed  to  erect  his  hydro-electric  plant  and  sell  it  for 
another  million  dollars'  profit  to  one  of  the  parent 
power  companies  throughout  the  state;  when  that  has 
been  disposed  of  he  can  lease  or  sell  the  range  land 
to  Andre  Loustalot  and  finally  he  can  retire  with  the 
prospect  of  unceasing  dividends  from  the  profits  of  his 
irrigation  company.  Within  two  years  he  will  have  a 
profit  of  at  least  two  million  dollars,  net,  but  this  will 
not  be  possible  until  he  has  first  disposed  of  me  at  a 
total  disposing  price  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"Please  explain  that." 

"As  I  think  I  have  remarked  in  your  presence  once 
before,  there  is  extreme  probability  that  the  State  of 
California  will  have  passed  additional  anti-Jap  legis 
lation,  designed  to  tighten  the  present  law  and  elimi 
nate  the  legal  loop-holes  whereby  alien  Japanese  con 
tinue  to  acquire  land  despite  the  existing  law.  If  I 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

stand  pat  no  Jap  can  set  foot  in  the  San  Gregorio 
valley  for  at  least  one  year  from  date  and  by  that 
time  this  legislation  may  be  in  force,  in  which  event  the 
Jap  deal  will  be  killed  forever.  Also,  there  is  always 
the  off  chance  that  I  may  manage,  mysteriously,  to 
redeem  the  property  in  the  interim.  It  would  be  worth 
a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  to  your  father  this  minute 
if  he  could  insure  himself  against  redemption  of  the 
mortgage ;  and  it  would  be  worth  an  additional  quarter 
of  a  million  dollars  to  him  if  he  were  free  to  do  business 
with  Okada  to-morrow  morning.  Okada  is  a  sure-fire 
prospect.  He  will  pay  cash  for  the  entire  valley  if  I 
permit  the  deal  to  go  through  now.  If,  however, 
through  my  stubbornness,  your  father  loses  out  with 
Okada,  it  will  be  a  year  hence  before  he  can  even  re 
commence  work  on  his  irrigation  system  and  another 
year  before  he  will  have  it  completed.  Many  things 
may  occur  during  those  two  years — the  principal  dan 
ger  to  be  apprehended  being  the  sudden  collapse  of 
inflated  war-time  values,  with  resultant  money  panics, 
forced  liquidation  and  the  destruction  of  public  con 
fidence  in  land  investments.  The  worry  and  exaspera 
tion  I  can  hand  your  respected  parent  must  be  as  seri 
ously  considered  as  the  impending  tremendous  loss  of 
profit." 

"I  believe  you  are  a  very  shrewd  young  man,  Don 
Mike,"  the  girl  answered,  sadly.  "I  think  your  plan 
will  be  much  more  likely  to  produce  half  a  million  dol 
lars  of  what  you  call  'getaway  money*  than  my  sug 
gestion  that  a  friend  run  up  the  price  on  father  at  the 
sale.  But  how  do  you  know  Okada  will  pay  cash?" 

"I  do  not  know.    But  if  your  father's  attorneys  are 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Californians  they  will  warn  him  to   play   safe  when 
dealing  with  a  Jap." 

"But  is  it  not  possible  that  Okada  may  not  have  suffi 
cient  money  to  operate  on  the  excessive  scale  you  out 
line?" 

"Not  a  chance.  He  is  not  buying  for  himself ;  he  is 
the  representative  of  the  Japanese  Association  of  Cal 
ifornia." 

"Well,  Don  Miguel  Farrel,"  the  girl  declared,  as  he 
ceased  speaking,  "I  have  only  known  you  twenty-four 
hours,  but  in  that  time  I  have  heard  you  do  a  deal  of 
talking  on  the  Japanese  question  in  Calif ornia.  And! 
now  you  have  proved  a  terrible  disappointment  to  me."' 

'In  what  way?"  he  demanded,  and  pulled  his  horse 
up  abruptly.  He  was  vaguely  distressed  at  her  blunt 
statement,  apprehensive  as  to  the  reason  for  her  flushed 
face  and  flashing  eye,  the  slightly  strident  note  in  her 
voice. 

"I  have  regarded  you  as  a  true  blue  American — a 
super-patriot.  And  now  you  calmly  plan  to  betray 
your  state  to  the  enemy  for  the  paltry  sum  of  half  a 
million  dollars!" 

He  stared  at  her,  a  variety  of  emotions  in  his  glance. 
"Well,"  he  replied,  presently,  "I  suppose  I  shall  de 
serve  that,  if  I  succeed  with  my  plan.  However,  as  a 
traitor,  I'm  not  even  a  runner-up  with  your  father. 
He's  going  to  get  a  couple  of  million  dollars  as  the 
price  of  his  shame!  And  he  doesn't  even  need  the 
money.  On  the  other  hand,  I  am  a  desperate,  mighty 
unhappy  ex-soldier  experiencing  all  of  the  delights  of  a 
bankrupt,  with  the  exception  of  an  introduction  to  the 
referee  in  bankruptcy.  I'm  whipped.  Who  cares  what 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  227 

becomes  of  me?  Not  a  soul  on  earth  except  Pablo  and 
Carolina  and  they,  poor  creatures,  are  dependent  upon 
me.  Why  should  I  sacrifice  my  last  chance  for  hap 
piness  in  a  vain  effort  to  stem  a  yellow  tide  that  cannot 
be  stemmed?  Why  do  you  taunt  me  with  my  aversion 
to  sacrifice  for  my  country — I  who  have  sacrificed  two 
years  of  my  life  and  some  of  my  blood  and  much  of 
my  happiness  ?'* 

Suddenly  she  put  her  little  gauntleted  hand  up  to 
her  face  and  commenced  to  weep.  "Oh,  Don  Mike, 
please  forgive  me !  I'm  sorry.  I — I — have  no  right 
to  demand  such  a  sacrifice,  but  oh,  I  thought — per 
haps — you  were  different  from  all  the  others — that 
you'd  be  a  true — knight  and  die — sword  in — hand — 
oh,  dear,  I'm  such  a — little  ninny " 

He  bit  his  lower  lip  but  could  not  quite  conceal  a 
smile. 

"You  mean  you  didn't  think  I  was  a  quitter!"  His 
voice  was  grim  and  crisp.  "Well,  in  the  dirty  battle 
for  bread  and  butter  there  are  no  decorations  for  gal 
lantry  in  action;  in  that  conflict  I  do  not  have  to  live 
up  to  the  one  that  Congress  gave  me.  And  why 
shouldn't  I  quit  ?  I  come  from  a  long  line  of  combina 
tion  fighter-quitters.  We  were  never  afraid  of  hard 
ship  or  physical  pain,  danger  or  death,  but — we 
couldn't  face  conditions;  we  balked  and  quit  in  the 
face  of  circumstance ;  we  retired  always  before  the  eco 
nomic  onslaught  of  the  Anglo-Saxon." 

"Ah,  but  you're  Anglo-Saxon,"  she  sobbed.  "You 
belong  to  the  race  that  doesn't  quit — that  somehow 
muddles  through." 

"If  I  but  possessed  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair — if  I 


228  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

but  possessed  the  guerdon  of  a  noble  lady's  love — I 
might  not  have  disappointed  you,  Kay.  I  might  still 
have  been  a  true  knight  and  died  sword  in  hand.  Un 
fortunately,  however,  I  possess  sufficient  Latin  blood  to 
make  me  a  little  bit  lazy — to  counsel  quitting  while 
the  quitting  is  good." 

"I'm  terribly  disappointed,"  she  protested.  "Ter 
ribly." 

"So  am  I.  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,  but — a  contrite 
heart  is  not  hockable  at  the  only  pawnshop  in  El  Toro. 
Buck  up,  Miss  Parker!" 

"You  have  called  me  Kay  three  times  this  afternoon, 
Miguel " 

He  rode  close  to  her,  reached  over  and  gently  drew 
one  little  hand  from  her  crimson  face.  "You're  a  dear 
girl,  Kay,"  he  murmured,  huskily.  "Please  cease  weep 
ing.  You  haven't  insulted  me  or  even  remotely  hurt 
my  little  feelings.  God  bless  your  sweet  soul !  If  you'll 
only  stop  crying,  I'll  give  you  Panchito.  He's  yours 
from  this  minute.  Saddle  and  bridle,  too.  Take  him. 
Do  what  you  please  with  him,  but  for  heaven's  sake 
don't  let  your  good  mother  think  we've  been  quarrel 
ing — and  on  the  very  second  day  of  our  acquaintance." 

She  dashed  the  tears  away  and  beamed  up  at  him. 
"You  give  Panchito  to  me!  You  don't  mean  it!" 

"I  do.  I  told  you  I  might  give  him  away  to  some 
body  worth  while." 

"You  haven't  known  me  long  enough  to  give  me  val 
uable  presents,  Miguel,"  she  demurred,  "You're  a 
dear  to  want  to  give  him  to  me  and  I'm  positively  mad 
to  own  him,  but  Mother  and  Dad  might  think — well, 
that  is,  they  might  not  understand.  Of  course  we  un- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

derstand  perfectly,  but — well — you  understand,  don't 
you,  Miguel?" 

"I  understand  that  I  cannot  afford  to  have  your 
father  suspect  that  I  am  unmindful  of — certain  con 
ditions,"  he  answered  her,  and  flushed  with  embarrass 
ment.  "If  you  do  not  want  Panchito  as  a  gift  I  shall 
not  insist " 

"I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  you  to  permit 
Dad  to  buy  him  for  me.  He's  worth  every  cent  of  five 
thousand  dollars " 

"I'll  never  sell  him.  I  told  you  this  afternoon  I  love 
him.  I  never  sell  a  horse  or  a  dog  that  I  love  or  that 
loves  me.  I  shall  have  to  take  him  back,  Kay — for 
the  present." 

"I  think  that  would  be  the  better  way,  Miguel." 
She  bent  upon  him  an  inscrutable  smile  but  in  the 
depths  of  her  brown  eyes  he  thought  he  detected 
laughter. 

"You'll  buck  up  now?"  he  pleaded. 

"I'm  already  bucked  up." 

As  they  rode  up  to  the  great  barn,  Kay  dismounted. 
"Leave  the  old  trifle  at  the  door,  Kay,"  Farrel  told 
her.  "Pablo  will  get  him  home.  Excuse  me,  please, 
while  I  take  this  calf  over  to  Carolina.  She'll  make  a 
man  out  of  him.  She's  a  wonder  at  inducing  little 
mavericks  like  this  fellow  to  drink  milk  from  a  bucket." 

He  jogged  away,  while  Panchito,  satisfied  that  he 
had  performed  throughout  the  day  like  a  perfect  gen 
tleman,  bent  his  head  and  rubbed  his  forehead  against 
Kay's  cheek,  seeking  some  evidence  of  growing  popu 
larity  with  the  girl.  To  his  profound  satisfaction  she 


230  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

scratched  him  under  the  jawbone  and  murmured  aud 
ibly  : 

"Never  mind,  old  dear.  Some  day  you'll  be  my  Pan- 
chito.  He  loves  you  and  didn't  he  say  he  could  only 
give  you  away  for  love?" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DINNER  that  night  was  singularly  free  from  con 
versation.  Nobody  present  felt  inclined  to  be 
chatty.  John  Parker  was  wondering  what  Miguel 
Farrel's  next  move  would  be,  and  was  formulating 
means  to  checkmate  it ;  Kay,  knowing  what  Don  Mike's 
next  move  would  be  and  knowing  further  that  she  was 
about  to  checkmate  it,  was  silent  through  a  sense  of 
guilt ;  Mrs.  Parker's  eight  miles  in  the  saddle  that  after 
noon  had  fatigued  her  to  the  point  of  dissipating  her 
buoyant  spirits,  and  Farrel  had  fallen  into  a  mood  of 
deep  abstraction. 

"Are  we  to  listen  to  naught  but  the  champing  of 
food?"  Mrs.  Parker  inquired  presently. 

"Hello !"  her  husband  declared.  "So  you've  come 
up  for  air,  eh,  Katie?" 

"Oh,  I'm  feeling  far  from  chatty,  John.  But  the 
silence  is  oppressive.  Miguel,  are  you  plotting  against 
the  whites?" 

He  looked  up  with  a  smiling  nod.  "I'm  making  big 
medicine,  Mrs.  Parker.  So  big,  in  fact,"  he  continued, 
as  he  folded  his  napkin  and  thrust  it  carefully  into 
the  ring,  "that  I  am  going  to  ask  your  permission  to 
withdraw.  I  have  been  very  remiss  in  my  social  duties, 
I  have  been  home  twenty-four  hours  and  I  have  passed 
the  Mission  de  la  Madre  Dolorosa  three  times,  yet  I 
have  not  been  inside  to  pay  my  respects  to  my  old 

231 


232  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

friends  there.  I  shall  be  in  disgrace  if  I  fail  to  call 
this  evening  for  Father  Dominic's  blessing.  They'll 
be  wondering  why  I  neglect  them." 

"How  do  you  know  they  know  you're  home?"  Parker 
demanded,  suspiciously.  He  was  wondering  if  Don 
Miguel's  excuse  to  leave  the  table  might  have  some  con 
nection  with  Bill  Conway  and  the  impending  imbroglio. 

"Brother  Flavio  told  me  so  to-night.  As  we  rode 
down  the  valley  he  was  ringing  the  Angelus ;  and  after 
the  Angelus  he  played  on  the  chimes,  'I'm  Nearer  Home 
To-day.'  May  I  be  excused,  Mrs.  Parker?" 

"By  all  means,  Michael." 

"Thank  you."  He  included  them  all  in  a  courteous 
nod  of  farewell.  They  heard  the  patio  gate  close  be 
hind  him. 

"I  wish  I  dared  follow  him,"  Parker  observed.  "I 
wonder  if  he  really  is  going  down  to  the  Mission.  I 
think  I'll  make  certain." 

He  left  the  room,  went  out  to  the  patio  gate,  opened 
it  slightly  and  peered  out.  His  host's  tall  form,  in 
distinct  in  the  moonlight,  was  disappearing  toward  the 
palm-lined  avenue,  so  Parker,  satisfied  that  Don  Mike 
had  embarked  upon  the  three-mile  walk  to  the  Mission, 
returned  to  the  dining-room. 

"Well,  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes?"  Kay  queried. 

"I  think  he's  headed  for  the  Mission,  after  all,  Kay." 

"I  never  doubted  it." 

"Why?" 

"Because  he  wouldn't  tell  a  trifling  lie  to  deceive  whein 
when  there  was  no  necessity  for  deceiving.  His  plans 
are  fully  matured  and  he  will  not  act  until  morning. 
In  that  three-mile  walk  to  the  Mission  he  will  perfect 
the  details  of  his  plan  of  attack." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  233 

"Then  he  is  planning? — but  you  said  his  plans  are 
fully  matured.  How  do  you  know,  Kay?" 

"He  told  me  all  about  them  as  we  were  riding  in  this 
evening."  Both  Parker  and  his  wife  raised  interroga 
tory  eyebrows.  "Indeed !"  Mrs.  Parker  murmured.  "So 
he's  honoring  you  with  his  confidences  already?" 

The  girl  ignored  her  mother's  bantering  tones.  "No, 
he  didn't  tell  me  in  confidence.  In  fact,  his  contem 
plated  procedure  is  so  normal  and  free  from  guile  that 
he  feels  there  is  no  necessity  for  secrecy.  I  suppose 
he  feels  that  it  would  be  foolish  to  conceal  the  trap 
after  the  mouse  has  been  caught  in  it." 

"Well,  little  daughter,  I  haven't  been  caugnt — yet. 
And  I'm  not  a  mouse,  but  considerable  of  an  old  fox. 
What's  he  up  to?" 

"He's  going  to  sell  you  his  equity  in  the  ranch." 

Her  father  stared  hard  at  her,  a  puzzled  little  smile 
beginning  to  break  over  his  handsome  face. 

"That  sounds  interesting,"  he  replied,  dryly.  "What 
am  I  going  to  pay  for  it?" 

"Half  a  million  dollars." 

"Nonsense." 

"Perhaps.  But  you'll  have  to  admit  that  his  reason 
ing  is  not  so  preposterous  as  you  think."  And  she 
went  on  to  explain  to  Parker  every  angle  of  the  situa 
tion  as  Don  Mike  viewed  it. 

Both  Parker  and  his  wife  listened  attentively.  "Well, 
John,"  the  good  soul  demanded,  when  her  daughter  had 
finished  speaking:  "What's  wrong  with  that  prescrip 
tion?" 

"By  George,  that  young  man  has  a  head  on  his 
shoulders.  His  reasoning  is  absolutely  flawless.  How 
ever,  I  am  not  going  to  pay  him  any  half-million  dol- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

lars.  I  might,  in  a  pinch,  consider  paying  him  half 
that,  but " 

"Would  a  quit-claim  deed  be  worth  half  a  million 
to  you,  Dad?" 

"As  a  matter  of  cold  business,  it  would.  Are  you 
quite  certain  he  was  serious  ?" 

"Oh,  quite  serious." 

"He's  a  disappointment,  Kay.  I  had  hoped  he  would 
prove  to  be  a  worth-while  opponent,  for  certainly  he 
is  a  most  likable  young  man.  However — — "  He 
smothered  a  yawn  with  his  hand,  selected  a  cigar  from 
his  case,  carefully  cut  off  the  end  and  lighted  it.  "Poor 
devil,"  he  murmured,  presently,  and  rose,  remarking 
that  he  might  as  well  take  a  turn  or  two  around  the 
farmyard  as  a  first  aid  to  digestion. 

Once  outside,  he  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  mesa  and 
gazed  down  the  moon-lit  San  Gregorio.  Half  a  mile 
away  he  saw  a  moving  black  spot  on  the  white  ribbon 
of  road.  "Confound  you,"  he  murmured,  "you're  going 
to  get  some  of  my  tail  feathers,  but  not  quite  the  hand 
ful  you  anticipate.  You  cannot  stand  the  acid  test, 
Don  Mike,  and  I'm  glad  to  know  that." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AS  Farrel  approached  the  Mission  de  la  Madre  Dolo- 
rosa,  a  man  in  the  rusty  brown  habit  of  a  Fran 
ciscan  friar  rose  from  a  bench  just  outside  the  entrance 
to  the  Mission  garden. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  in  calm,  paternal  accents  and 
speaking  in  Spanish,  "I  knew  you  would  come  to  see 
your  old  friends  when  you  had  laid  aside  the  burdens 
of  the  day.  I  have  waited  here  to  be  first  to  greet  you ; 
for  you  I  am  guilty  of  the  sin  of  selfishness." 

"Padre  Dominic !"  Don  Mike  grasped  the  out 
stretched  hand  and  wrung  it  heartily.  "Old  friend! 
Old  Saint !  Not  since  my  confirmation  have  I  asked 
for  your  blessing,"  and  with  the  words  he  bent  his, 
head  while  the  old  friar,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
asked  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  last  of  the  Farrels. 

Don  Mike  drew  his  old  friend  down  to  the  seat  the 
latter  had  just  vacated.  "We  will  talk  here  for 
awhile,  Father,"  he  suggested.  "I  expect  the  arrival  of 
a  friend  in  an  automobile  and  I  would  not  be  in  the 
garden  when  he  passes.  Later  I  will  visit  with  the 
others.  Good  Father  Dominic,  does  God  still  bless  you 
with  excellent  health?" 

"He  does,  Miguel,  but  the  devil  afflicts  me  with  rheu 
matism." 

235 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"You  haven't  changed  a  bit,  Father  Dominic." 

"Mummies  do  not  change,  my  son.  I  have  accom 
plished  ninety-two  years  of  my  life;  long  ago  I  used 
up  all  possibilities  for  change,  even  for  the  worse.  It 
is  good  to  have  you  home,  Miguel.  Pablo  brought  us 
the  news  early  this  morning.  We  wondered  why  you 
did  not  look  in  upon  us  as  you  passed  last  night." 

"I  looked  in  at  my  father's  grave.  I  was  in  no  mood 
for  meeting  those  who  had  loved  him." 

For  perhaps  half  an  hour  they  conversed;  then  the; 
peace  of  the  valley  was  broken  by  the  rattling  and  la 
bored  puffing  of  an  asthmatic  automobile. 

Father  Dominic  rose  and  peered  around  the  corner. 
"Yonder  comes  one  who  practises  the  great  virtue  of 
economy,"  he  announced,  "for  he  is  running  without 
lights.  Doubtless  he  deems  the  moonlight  sufficient." 

Farrel  stepped  out  into  the  road  and  held  up  his 
arm  as  a  signal  for  the  motorist  to  halt.  Old  Bill 
Conway  swung  his  prehistoric  automobile  off  the  road 
'and  pulled  up  before  the  Mission,  his  carbon-heated 
motor  continuing  to  fire  spasmodically  even  after  he 
had  turned  off  the  ignition. 

"Hello,  Miguel,"  he  called,  cheerily,  "What  are 
you  doing  here,  son?" 

"Calling  on  my  spiritual  adviser  and  waiting  for 
you,  Bill." 

"Howdy,  Father  Dominic."  Conway  leaped  out  and 
gave  his  hand  to  the  old  friar.  "Miguel,  how  did  you 
know  I  was  coming?" 

"This  is  the  only  road  out  of  Agua  Caliente  basin — 
and  I  know  you !  You'd  give  your  head  for  a  football 
to  anybody  you  love,  but  the  man  who  takes  anything 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  237 

away  from  you  will  have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morn 
ing." 

"Go  to  the  head  of  the  class,  boy.  You're  right.  I 
figured  Parker  would  be  getting  up  rather  early  to 
morrow  morning  and  dusting  into  El  Toro  to  clear  for 
action,  so  I  thought  I'd  come  in  to-night.  I'm  going 
to  rout  out  an  attorney  the  minute  I  get  to  town,  have 
him  draw  up  a  complaint  in  my  suit  for  damages 
against  Parker  for  violation  of  contract,  file  the  com 
plaint  the  instant  the  county  clerk's  office  opens  in  the 
morning  and  then  attach  his  account  in  the  El  Toro 
bank." 

"You  might  attach  his  stock  in  that  institution  while 
you're  at  it,  Bill.  However,  I  wouldn't  stoop  so  low 
as  to  attach  his  two  automobiles.  The  Parkers  are 
guests  of  mine  and  I  wouldn't  inconvenience  the  ladies 
for  anything." 

"Bjr  the  Holy  Poker!  Have  they  got  two  automo 
biles?"  There  was  a  hint  of  apprehension  in  old  Con- 
way's  voice. 

"Si,  senor.     A  touring  car  and  a  limousine." 

"Oh,  lord!  I'm  mighty  glad  you  told  me,  Miguel. 
I  only  stole  the  spark  plugs  from  that  eight  cylinder 
touring  car.  Lucky  thing  the  hounds  know  me.  They 
like  to  et  me  up  at  first." 

Parrel  sat  down  on  the  filthy  running  board  of  Bill 
Conway's  car  and  laughed  softly.  "Oh,  Bill,  you're  im 
mense!  So  that's  why  you're  running  without  lights! 
You  concluded  that  even  if  he  did  get  up  early  in  the 
morning  you  couldn't  afford  to  permit  him  to  reach  El 
Toro  before  the  court-house  opened  for  business." 

"A  wise  man  counteth  his  chickens  before  they  are 


238  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

hatched,  Miguel.  Where  does  Parker  keep  the  limou 
sine?" 

"Bill,  I  cannot  tell  you  that.  These  people  are  my 
guests." 

"Oh,  very  well.  Now  that  I  know  it's  there  I'll  find  it. 
What  did  you  want  to  see  me  about,  boy?" 

"I've  been  thinking  of  our  conversation  of  this  after 
noon,  Bill,  and  as  a  result  I'm  panicky.  I  haven't  any 
right  to  drag  you  into  trouble  or  ask  you  to  share  my 
woes.  I've  thought  it  over  and  I  think  I  shall  play 
safe.  Parker  will  get  the  ranch  in  the  long  run,  but  if 
I  give  him  a  quit-claim  deed  now  I  think  he  will  give  me 
at  least  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  It'll  be  worth 
that  to  him  to  be  free  to  proceed  with  his  plans." 

"Yes,  I  can  understand  that,  Miguel,  and  probably, 
from  a  business  standpoint,  your  decision  does  credit  to 
your  common  sense.  But  how  about  this  Jap  colony?" 

"Bill,  can  two  lone,  poverty-stricken  Californians 
hope  to  alter  the  immigration  laws  of  the  entire  United 
States?  Can  we  hope  to  keep  the  present  Japanese 
population  of  California  confined  to  existing  areas?" 

"No,  I  suppose  not." 

"I  had  a  wild  hope  this  afternoon — guess  I  was  a  bit 
theatrical — but  it  was  a  hope  based  on  selfishness.  I'm 
only  twenty-eight  years  old,  Bill,  but  you  are  nearly 
sixty.  I'm  too  young  to  sacrifice  my  old  friends,  so 
I've  waited  here  to  tell  you  that  you  are  released  from 
your  promise  to  support  me.  Settle  with  Parker  and 
pull  out  in  peace." 

Conway  pondered.  "Wel-1-1-1,"  he  concluded,  finally, 
"perhaps  you're  right,  son.  Nevertheless,  I'm  going  to 
enter  suit  and  attach.  Foolish  to  hunt  big  game  with 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  239 

an  empty  gun,  Miguel.  Parker  spoke  of  an  ami 
cable  settlement,  but  as  Napoleon  remarked,  'God  is  on 
the  side  of  the  strongest  battalions,'  and  an  amicable 
settlement  is  much  more  amicably  obtained,  when  a 
forced  settlement  is  inevitable."  And  the  cunning  old 
rascal  winked  solemnly. 

Farrel  stood  up.  "Well,  that's  all  I  wanted  to  see 
you  about,  Bill.  That,  and  to  say  'thank  you'  until 
you  are  better  paid." 

"Well,  I'm  on  my  way,  Miguel."  The  old  contractor 
shook  hands  with  Father  Dominic  and  Farrel,  cranked 
his  car,  turned  it  and  headed  back  up  the  San  Gre- 
gorio,  while  Father  Dominic  guided  Don  Mike  into  the 
Mission  refectory,  where  Father  Andreas  and  the  lay 
brothers  sat  around  the  dinner  table,  discussing  a 
black  scale  which  had  lately  appeared  on  their  olive 
trees. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  palm  avenue,  Bill  Gonway 
stopped  his  car  and  proceeded  afoot  to  the  Farrel  ha 
cienda,  which  he  approached  cautiously  from  the  rear, 
through  the  oaks.  A  slight  breeze  was  blowing  down 
the  valley,  so  Conway  manoeuvred  until  a  short  quick 
bark  from  one  of  Farrel's  hounds  informed  him  that  his 
scent  had  been  borne  to  the  kennel  and  recognized  as 
that  of  a  friend.  Confident  now  that  he  would  not  be 
discovered  by  the  inmates  of  the  hacienda,  Bill  Conway 
proceeded  boldly  to  the  barn.  Just  inside  the  main 
building  which,  in  more  prosperous  times  on  El  Palo- 
mar,  had  been  used  for  storing  hay,  the  touring  car 
stood.  Conway  fumbled  along  the  instrument  board 
and  discovered  the  switch  key  still  in  the  lock,  so  he 
turned  on  the  headlights  and  discovered  the  limousine 


240  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

thirty  feet  away  in  the  rear  of  the  barn.  Ten  minutes 
later,  with  the  spark  plugs  from  both  cars  carefully 
secreted  under  a  pile  of  split  stove  wood  in  the  yard, 
he  departed  as  silently  as  he  had  come. 

About  nine  o'clock  Don  Mike  left  the  Mission  and 
walked  home.  On  the  hills  to  the  north  he  caught  the 
glare  of  a  camp-fire  against  the  silvery  sky ;  where 
fore  he  knew  that  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  and  his  dep 
uties  were  guarding  the  Loustalot  sheep. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  entered  the  patio.  In  a  wicker 
chaise-longue  John  Parker  lounged  on  the  porch  out 
side  his  room;  Farrel  caught  the  scent  of  his  cigar  on 
the  warm,  semi-tropical  night,  saw  the  red  end  of  it 
gleaming  like  a  demon's  eye. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Farrel,"  Parker  greeted  him.  "Won't 
you  sit  down  and  smoke  a  cigar  with  me  before  turn 
ing  in?" 

"Thank  you.  I  shall  be  happy  to."  He  crossed  the 
garden  to  his  guest,  sat  down  beside  him  and  gratefully 
accepted  the  fragrant  cigar  Parker  handed  him.  A 
moment  later  Kay  joined  them. 

"Wonderful  night,"  Parker  remarked.  "Mrs.  P. 
retired  early,  but  Kay  ,and  I  sat  up  chatting  and  en 
joying  the  peaceful  loveliness  of  this  old  garden.  A 
sleepless  mocking  bird  and  a  sleepy  little  thrush  gave 
a  concert  in  the  sweet-lime  tree;  a  couple  of  green 
frogs  in  the  fountain  rendered  a  bass  duet;  Kay 
thought  that  if  we  remained  very  quiet  the  spirits  of 
some  lovers  of  the  'splendid  idle  forties'  might  appear 
in  your  garden." 

The  mood  of  the  night  was  still  upon  the  girl.     In 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  momentary   silence  that   followed   she   commenced 
singing  softly: 

I  saw  an  old-fashioned  missus, 
Taking  old-fashioned  kisses, 
In  an  old-fashioned  garden, 
From  an  old-fashioned  beau. 

Don  Mike  slid  off  the  porch  and  went  to  his  own 
room,  returning  presently  with  a  guitar.  "I've  been 
wanting  to  play  a  little,"  he  confessed  as  he  tuned  the 
neglected  instrument,  "but  it  seemed  sort  of  sacri 
legious — after  coming  home  and  finding  my  father  gone 
and  the  ranch  about  to  go.  However — why  sip  sor 
row  with  a  long  spoon?  What's  that  ballad  about  the 
old-fashioned  garden,  Miss  Kay?  I  like  it.  If  you'll 
hum  it  a  few  times " 

Ten  minutes  later  he  knew  the  simple  little  song  and 
was  singing  it  with  her.  Mrs.  Parker,  in  dressing 
gown,  slippers  and  boudoir  cap,  despairing  of  sleep 
until  all  of  the  members  of  her  family  had  first  pre 
ceded  her  to  bed,  came  out  and  joined  them;  presently 
they  were  all  singing  happily  together,  while  Don 
Mike  played  or  faked  an  accompaniment. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Parrel  gave  a  final  vigorous  strum 
to  the  guitar  and  stood  up  to  say  good-night. 

"Shall  we  sing  again  to-morrow  night,  Don  Mike?" 
Kay  demanded,  eagerly. 

Parrel's  glance  rested  solemnly  upon  her  father's 
face.  "Well,  if  we  all  feel  happy  to-morrow  night  I  see 
no  objection,"  he  answered.  "I  fear  for  your  father, 
Miss  Kay.  Have  you  told  him  of  my  plans  for  de 
pleting  his  worldly  wealth?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

She  flushed  a  little  and  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"How  does  the  idea  strike  you,  Mr.  Parker?" 

John  Parker  grinned — the  superior  grin  of  one  who 
knows  his  superior  strength.  "Like  a  great  many  prin 
ciples  that  are  excellent  in  theory,  your  plan  will  not 
work  in  practice." 

"No?" 

"No." 

For  the  second  time  that  day  Kay  saw  Don  Mike's 
face  light  up  with  that  insouciant  boyish  smile. 

Then  he  skipped  blithely  across  the  garden  thrum 
ming  the  guitar  and  singing: 

Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the 
coming  of  the  Lord! 

At  seven  o'clock  next  morning,  while  Miguel  Farrel 
was  shaving,  John  Parker  came  to  his  door,  knocked, 
and  without  further  ado  came  into  the  room. 

"Farrel,"  he  began,  briskly,  "I  do  not  relish  your 
way  of  doing  business.  Where  are  the  spark  plugs  of 
my  two  cars?" 

"My  dear  man,  I  haven't  taken  them,  so  why  do  you 
ask  me?  I  am  not  flattered  at  your  blunt  hint  that  I 
would  so  far  forget  my  position  as  host  as  to  steal 
the  spark  plugs  from  my  guest's  automobiles." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  Somebody  took  them  and  nat 
urally  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  you  were  the 
guilty  party." 

Don  Mike  shaved  in  silence. 

"Do  you  know  who  removed  those  spark  plugs,  Mr. 
Farrel?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do." 

"Who  did  it?" 

"Bill  Conway.  He  came  by  last  night  and  concluded 
it  would  be  better  to  make  quite  certain  that  you  re 
mained  away  from  El  Toro  until  about  nine-thirty 
o'clock  this  morning.  It  was  entirely  Bill's  idea.  I 
did  not  suggest  it  to  him,  directly  or  indirectly.  He's 
old  enough  to  roll  his  own  hoop.  He  had  a  complaint 
in  action  drawn  up  against  you  last  night ;  it  will  be 
filed  at  nine  o'clock  this  morning  and  immediately  there 
after  your  bank  account  and  your  stock  in  the  First 
National  Bank  of  El  Toro  will  be  attached.  Of  course 
you  will  file  a  bond  to  lift  the  attachment,  but  Bill 
will  have  your  assets  where  he  can  levy  on  them  when 
he  gets  round  to  collecting  on  the  judgment  which  he 
will  secure  ,against  you  unless  you  proceed  with  the 
contract  for  that  dam." 

"And  this  is  Conway's  work  entirely?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"It's  clever  work.  I'm  sorry  it  wasn't  yours.  May 
I  have  the  loan  of  a  saddle  horse — Panchito  or  the 
gray?" 

"Not  to  ride  either  of  them,  breakfastless,  twenty- 
one  miles  to  El  Toro  in  two  hours.  They  car  do  it, 
but  not  under  an  impost  of  a  hundred  and  ninety 

pounds.  You  might  ruin  both  of  them "  he  scraped 

his  chin,  smiling  blandly "and  I  know  you'd  about 

ruin  yourself,  sir.  The  saddle  had  commenced  to  get 
very  sore  before  you  had  completed  eight  miles  yester 
day." 

"Then  I'm  out  of  luck,  I  dare  say." 

"Strikes  me  that  way,  Mr.  Parker." 


244  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Very  well.  You  force  me  to  talk  business.  What 
will  that  quit-claim  deed  cost  me?" 

"Six  hundred  thousand  dollars.  I've  raised  the  ante 
since  last  night." 

"I'll  not  pay  it." 

"What  will  you  pay?" 

"About  fifty  per  cent,  of  it." 

"I  might  consider  less  than  my  first  figure  and  more 
than  your  last.  Make  me  a  firm  offer — in  writing — 
and  I'll  give  you  a  firm  answer  the  instant  you  hand 
me  the  document.  I'm  a  poor  bargainer.  Haggling 
irritates  me — so  I  never  haggle.  And  I  don't  care  a 
tinker's  hoot  whether  you  buy  me  off  or  not.  After 
nine  o'clock  this  morning  you  will  have  lost  the  oppor 
tunity,  because  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  I  shall 
decline  even  to  receive  an  offer." 

He  reached  over  on  his  bureau  and  retrieved  there 
from  a  sheet  of  paper.  "Here  is  the  form  I  desire  your 
offer  to  take,  sir,"  he  continued,  affably,  and  handed 
the  paper  to  Parker.  "Please  re-write  it  in  ink,  fill  in 
the  amount  of  your  offer  and  sign  it.  You  have  until 
nine  o'clock,  remember.  At  nine-one  you  will  be  too 
late." 

Despite  his  deep  annoyance,  Parker  favored  him  with 
a  sardonic  grin.  "You're  a  good  bluffer,  Farrel." 

Don  Mike  turned  from  the  mirror  and  regarded  his 
guest  very  solemnly.  "How  do  you  know?"  he  queried, 
mildly.  "You've  never  seen  me  bluff.  I've  seen  a  few 
inquests  held  in  this  country  over  some  men  who  bluffed 
in  an  emergency.  We're  no  longer  wild  and  woolly  out 
here,  but  when  we  pull,  we  shoot.  Remember  that,  sir." 

Parker  felt  himself  abashed  in  the  presence  of  this 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  245 

cool  young  man,  for  nothing  is  so  disconcerting  as  a 
defeated  enemy  who  refuses  to  acknowledge  defeat.  It 
occurred  to  Parker  in  that  moment  that  there  was 
nothing  extraordinary  in  Farrel's  action;  for  consid 
eration  of  the  sweetness  of  life  cannot  be  presumed  to 
arouse  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  one  who  knows  he 
will  be  murdered  if  he  does  not  commit  suicide. 

John  Parker  tucked  the  paper  in  his  pocket  and 
thoughtfully  left  the  room.  "The  boy  distrusts  me," 
he  soliloquized,  "afraid  I'll  go  back  on  any  promise  I 
make  him,  so  he  demands  my  offer  in  writing.  Some 
more  of  his  notions  of  business,  Spanish  style.  Stilted 
and  unnecessary.  How  like  all  of  his  kind  he  is! 
Ponderous  in  minor  affairs,  casual  in  major  matters  of 
business." 

An  hour  later  he  came  up  to  Don  Mike,  chatting 
with  Kay  and  Mrs.  Parker  on  the  porch,  and  thrust 
an  envelope  into  Farrel's  hand. 

"Here  is  my  offer — in  writing." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  Don  Mike  thrust  the  envelope 
unopened  into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat  and  from 
the  side  pocket  of  the  same  garment  drew  another  en 
velope.  "Here  is  my  answer — in  writing." 

Parker  stared  at  him  in  frank  amazement  and  admi 
ration;  Kay's  glance,  as  it  roved  from  her  father  to 
Don  Mike  and  back  again,  was  sad  and  troubled. 

"Then  you've  reopened  negotiations,  father,"  she 
demanded,  accusingly. 

He  nodded.  "Our  host  has  a  persuasive  way  about 
him,  Kay,"  he  supplemented.  "He  insisted  so  on  my 
making  him  an  offer  that  finally  I  consented." 


246  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"And  now,"  Farrel  assured  her,  "negotiations  are 
about  to  be  closed." 

"Absolutely?" 

"Absolutely.     Never  to  be  reopened,  Miss  Kay.'* 

Parker  opened  his  envelope  and  read.  His  face  was 
without  emotion.  "That  answer  is  entirely  satisfac 
tory  to  me,  Mr.  Farrel,"  he  said,  presently,  and  passed 
the  paper  to  his  daughter.  She  read: 

I  was  tempted  last  night.  You  should  have 
closed  then.  I  have  changed  my  mind.  Your 
offer — whatever  it  may  be — is  declined. 

"I  also  approve,"  Kay  murmured,  and  in  the  swift 
glance  she  exchanged  with  Don  Miguel  he  read  some 
thing  that  caused  his  heart  to  beat  happily.  Mrs. 
Parker  took  the  paper  from  her  daughter's  hand  and 
read  it  also. 

"Very  well,  Ajax.  I  think  we  all  think  a  great  deal 
more  of  you  for  defying  the  lightning,"  was  her  sole 
comment. 

Despite  his  calm,  John  Parker  was  irritated  to  the 
point  of  fury.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  imposed  upon 
by  Don  Mike;  his  great  god,  business,  had  been  scan 
dalously  flouted. 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand,  Mr.  Farrel,"  he  said, 
coldly,  "why  you  have  subjected  me  to  the  incivility  of 
requesting  from  me  an  offer  in  writing  and  then  refus 
ing  to  read  it  when  I  comply  with  your  request.  Why 
subject  me  to  that  annoyance  when  you  knew  you  in 
tended  to  refuse  any  offer  I  might  make  you?  I  do 
not  relish  your  flippancy  at  my  expense,  sir.*' 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  247 

"Do  you  not  think,  sir,  that  I  can  afford  a  modicum 
of  flippancy  when  I  pay  such  a  fearfully  high  price 
for  it?"  Don  Mike  countered  smilingly.  "I'll  bet  a 
new  hat  my  pleasantry  cost  me  not  less  than  four 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  I  think  I'll  make  certain," 
and  he  opened  Parker's  envelope  and  read  what  was 
contained  therein.  "Hum-m!  Three  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand?" 

Parker  extended  his  hand.  "I  would  be  obliged  to 
you  for  the  return  of  that  letter,"  he  began,  but 
paused,  confused,  at  Farrel's  cheerful,  mocking  grin. 

"All's  fair  in  love  and  war,"  he  quoted,  gaily.  "I 
wanted  a  document  to  prove  to  some  banker  or  pawn 
broker  that  I  have  an  equity  in  this  ranch  and  it  is 
worth  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  astute  financier  who  holds  a  first 
mortgage  on  it.  Really,  I  think  I'd  be  foolish  to  give 
away  this  evidence,"  and  he  tucked  it  carefully  back 
in  his  pocket. 

"I  wonder,"  Kay  spoke  up  demurely,  "which  an 
cestor  from  which  side  of  the  family  tree  put  that  idea 
in  his  head,  father?" 

Don  Mike  pretended  not  to  have  heard  her.  He 
turned  kindly  to  John  Parker  and  laid  a  friendly  hand 
upon  the  latter's  arm. 

"I  think  Bill  Conway  will  drift  by  about  ten  o'clock 
or  ten-thirty,  Mr.  Parker.  I  know  he  will  not  cause 
you  any  more  inconvenience  than  he  finds  absolutely 
necessary,  sir.  He's  tricky,  but  he  isn't  mean." 

Parker  did  not  reply.  He  did  not  know  whether  to 
laugh  or  fly  into  a  rage,  to  offer  Don  Mike  his  hand 
or  his  fist.  The  latter  must  have  guessed  Parker's 


248  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

feelings,  for  he  favored  his  guests  with  a  Latin  shrug 
and  a  deprecatory  little  smile,  begged  to  be  excused 
and  departed  for  the  barn.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later 
Kay  saw  him  and  Pablo  ride  out  of  the  yard  and 
over  the  hills  toward  the  west ;  she  observed  that  Farrel 
was  riding  his  father's  horse,  wherefore  she  knew  that 
he  had  left  Panchito  behind  for  her. 

Farrel  found  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval,  the  sheriff,  by 
riding  straight  to  a  column  of  smoke  he  saw  rising 
from  a  grove  of  oaks  on  a  flat  hilltop. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  camping  out  here,  Don 
Nicolas?"  Farrel  demanded  as  he  rode  up.  "Since 
when  has  it  become  the  fashion  to  await  a  formal  in 
vitation  to  the  hospitality  of  the  Rancho  Palomar?" 

"I  started  to  ride  down  to  the  hacienda  at  sunset 
last  night,"  Don  Nicolas  replied,  "but  a  man  on  foot 
and  carrying  a  rifle  and  a  blanket  came  over  the  hills 
to  the  south.  I  watched  him  through  my  binoculars. 
He  came  down  into  the  wash  of  the  San  Gregorio — 
and  I  did  not  see  him  come  out.  So  I  knew  he  was 
camped  for  the  night  in  the  willow  thickets  of  the  river 
bed;  that  he  was  a  stranger  in  the  country,  else  he 
would  have  gone  up  to  your  hacienda  for  the  night; 
that  his  visit  spelled  danger  to  you,  else  why  did  he 
carry  a  rifle? 

"I  went  supperless,  watching  from  the  hillside  to 
see  if  this  stranger  would  light  a  fire  in  the  valley." 

"He  did  not?"  Farrel  queried. 

"Had  he  made  a  camp-fire,  my  boy,  I  would  have 
accorded  myself  the  pleasure  of  an  informal  visit,  inci 
dentally  ascertaining  who  he  was  and  what  he  wanted. 
I  am  very  suspicious  of  strangers  who  make  cold  camps 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  249 

in  the  San  Gregorio.  At  daylight  this  morning  I  rode 
down  the  wash  and  searched  for  his  camp.  I  found 
where  he  had  slept  in  the  grass — also  this,"  and  he 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  single  rifle  cartridge.  "Thirty- 
two-forty  caliber,  Miguel,"  he  continued,  "with  a  soft- 
nose  bullet.  I  do  not  know  of  one  in  this  county  who 
shoots  such  a  heavy  rifle.  In  the  old  days  we  used  the 
.44  caliber,  but  nowadays,  we  prefer  nothing  heavier 
than  a  .30  and  many  use  a  .25  caliber  for  deer." 

Farrel  drew  a  6  millimeter  Mannlicher  carbine  from 
the  gun  scabbard  on  his  saddle,  dropped  five  shells  into 
the  magazine,  looked  at  his  sights  and  thrust  the 
weapon  back  into  its  receptacle.  "I  think  I  ought  to 
have  some  more  life  insurance,"  he  murmured,  com 
placently.  "By  the  way,  Don  Nicolas,  about  how 
many  sheep  have  I  attached?" 

"Loustalot's  foreman  says  nine  thousand  in  round 
numbers." 

"Where  is  the  sheep  camp?" 

"Over  yonder."  Don  Nicolas  waved  a  careless 
hand  toward  the  west.  "I  saw  their  camp-fire  last 
night." 

"I'm  going  over  to  give  them  the  rush." 

"By  all  means,  Miguel.  If  you  run  those  Basques 
off  the  ranch  I  will  be  able  to  return  to  town  and  leave 
my  deputies  in  charge  of  these  sheep.  Keep  your  eyes 
open,  Miguel.  Adios,  mucliaclio!" 

F.arrel  jogged  away  with  Pablo  at  his  heels.  Half 
an  hour  later  he  had  located  the  sheep  camp  and  ridden 
to  it  to  accost  the  four  bewhiskered  Basque  shepherds 
who,  surrounded  by  their  dogs,  sullenly  watched  his 
approach. 


250  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Who  is  the  foreman?"  Don  Mike  demanded  in  Eng 
lish  as  he  rode. 

"I  am,  you  • — ,"  one  of  the 

Basques  replied,  briskly.  "I  don't  have  for  ask  who 
are  you.  I  know." 

"Mebbeso  some  day,  you  forget,"  Pablo  cried.  "I 
will  give  you  something  for  make  you  remember,  pig." 
The  old  majordomo  was  riding  the  black  mare.  A 
touch  of  the  spur,  a  bound,  and  she  was  beside  Lous- 
talot's  foreman,  with  Pablo  cutting  the  fellow  furiously 
over  the  head  and  face  with  his  heavy  quirt.  The  other 
three  sheepmen  ran  for  the  tent,  but  Don  Mike  spurred 
the  gray  in  between  them  and  their  objective,  at  the 
same  time  drawing  his  carbine. 

There  was  no  further  argument.  The  sheepherders' 
effects  were  soon  transferred  to  the  backs  of  three 
burros  and,  driving  the  little  animals  ahead  of  them, 
the  Basques  moved  out.  Farrel  and  Don  Nicolas  fol 
lowed  them  to  the  boundaries  of  the  ranch  and  shooed 
them  out  through  a  break  in  the  fence. 

"Regarding  that  stranger  who  camped  last  night  in 
the  valley,  Don  Miguel.  Would  it  not  be  well  to  look 
into  his  case?" 

Don  Mike  nodded.  "We  will  ride  up  the  valley, 
Pablo,  as  if  we  seek  cattle ;  if  we  find  this  fellow  we  will 
ask  him  to  explain." 

"That  is  well,"  the  old  Indian  agreed,  and  dropped 
back  to  his  respectful  position  in  his  master's  rear. 
As  they  topped  the  ridge  that  formed  the  northern 
buttress  of  the  San  Gregorio,  Pablo  rode  to  the  left 
and  started  down  the  hill  through  a  draw  covered  with 
a  thick  growth  of  laurel,  purple  lilac,  a  few  madone 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  251 

trees  and  an  occasional  oak.  He  knew  that  a  big,  five- 
point  buck  had  its  habitat  here  and  it  was  Pablo's  de 
sire  to  jump  this  buck  out  and  thus  afford  his  master 
a  glimpse  of  the  trophy  that  awaited  him  later  in  the 
year. 

From  the  valley  below  a  rifle  cracked.  Pablo  slid  out 
of  his  saddle  with  the  ease  of  a  youth  and  lay  flat  on  the 
ground  beside  the  trail.  But  no  bullet  whined  up  the 
draw  or  struck  near  him,  wherefore  he  knew  that  he 
was  not  the  object  of  an  attack;  yet  there  was  wild 
pounding  of  his  heart  when  the  rifle  spoke  again  and 
again. 

The  thud  of  hoofs  smote  his  ear  sharply,  so  close 
was  he  to  the  ground.  Slowly  Pablo  raised  his  hegtd. 
Over  the  hog's  back  which  separated  the  draw  in  which 
Pablo  lay  concealed  from  the  draw  down  which  Don 
Miguel  had  ridden,  the  gray  horse  came  galloping — 
riderless — and  Pablo  saw  the  stock  of  the  rifle  project 
ing  from  the  scabbard.  The  runaway  plunged  into  the 
draw  some  fifteen  yards  in  front  of  Pablo,  found  a 
cow-trail  leading  down  it  and  disappeared  into  the 
valley. 

Pablo's  heart  swelled  with  agony.  "It  has  hap 
pened  !"  he  murmured.  "Ah,  Mother  of  God !  It  has 
happened !" 

Two  more  shots  in  rapid  succession  sounded  from 
the  valley.  "He  makes  certain  of  his  kill,"  thought 
Pablo.  After  a  while  he  addressed  the  off  front  foot 
of  the  black  mare.  "I  will  do  likewise." 

Pie  started  crawling  on  his  belly  up  out  of  the  draw 
to  the  crest  of  the  hog's  back.  He  had  an  impression, 
amounting  almost  to  a  certainty,  that  the  assassin  in 


252  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  valley  had  not  seen  him  riding  down  the  draw, 
otherwise  he  would  not  have  opened  fire  on  Don  Miguel. 
He  would  have  bided  his  time  and  chosen  an  occasion 
when  there  would  be  no  witnesses. 

For  an  hour  he  waited,  watching,  grieving,  weeping 
a  little.  From  the  draw  where  Don  Miguel  lay  no 
sound  came  forth.  Pablo  tried  hard  to  erase  from  his 
mind  a  vision  of  what  he  would  find  when,  his  primal 
duty  of  vengeance,  swift  and  complete,  accomplished,  he 
should  go  down  into  that  draw.  His  tear-dimmed, 
bloodshot  eyes  searched  the  valley — ah,  what  was  that  ? 
A  cow,  a  deer  or  a  man?  Surely  something  had  moved 
in  the  brush  at  the  edge  of  the  river  wash. 

Pablo  rubbed  the  moisture  from  his  eyes  and  looked 
again.  A  man  was  crossing  the  wash  on  foot  and  he 
carried  a  rifle.  A  few  feet  out  in  the  wash  he  paused, 
irresolute,  turned  back,  and  knelt  in  the  sand. 

"Oh,  blessed  Mother  of  God !"  Pablo  almost  sobbed, 
joyously.  "I  will  burn  six  candles  in  thy  honor  and 
keep  flowers  on  thy  altar  at  the  Mission  for  a  year!" 

Again  the  man  stood  up  and  started  across  the 
wash.  He  no  longer  had  his  rifle.  "It  is  as  I  thought," 
Pablo  soliloquized.  "He  has  buried  the  rifle  in  the 
sand." 

Pablo  watched  the  man  start  resolutely  across  the 
three-mile  stretch  of  flat  ground  between  the  river  and 
the  hills  to  the  south.  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  had  re 
marked  that  the  stranger  had  come  in  over  the  hills 
to  the  south.  Very  well !  Believing  himself  undetected, 
he  would  depart  in  the  same  direction.  The  Rancho* 
Palomar  stretched  ten  miles  to  the  south  and  it  would 
be  a  strange  coincidence  if,  in  that  stretch  of  rolling, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  253 

brushy  country,  a  human  being  should  cross  his  path. 

The  majordomo  quickly  crawled  back  into  the  draw 
where  the  black  mare  patiently  awaited  him.  Leading 
her,  he  started  cautiously  down,  taking  advantage  of 
every  tuft  of  cover  until,  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
draw,  he  discovered  that  some  oaks  effectually  screened 
his  quarry  from  sight.  Reasoning  quite  correctly  that 
the  same  oaks  as  effectually  screened  him  from  his 
quarry,  Pablo  mourned  and  galloped  straight  across 
country  for  his  man. 

He  rode  easily,  for  he  was  saving  the  mare's  speed 
for  a  purpose.  The  fugitive,  casting  a  guilty  look  to 
the  rear,  saw  him  coming  and  paused,  irresolute,  but 
observing  no  evidences  of  precipitate  haste,  continued 
his  retreat,  which  (Pablo  observed,  grimly)  was  casual 
now,,  as  if  he  desired  to  avert  suspicion. 

Pablo  pulled  the  mare  down  to  a  trot,  to  a  walk.  He 
could  afford  to  take  his  time  and  it  was  not  part  of 
his  plan  to  bungle  his  work  by  undue  haste.  The  fugi 
tive  was  crossing  through  a  prtch  of  lilac  and  Pablo 
desired  to  overhaul  him  in  a  wide  open  space  beyond,  so 
he  urged  the  mare  to  a  trot  again  and  jogged  by  on  a 
parallel  course,  a  hundred  yards  distant. 

"Buena  dias,  senor"  he  called,  affably,  and  waved 
his  hand  at  the  stranger,  who  waved  back. 

On  went  the  old  majordomo,  across  the  clear  space 
and  into  the  oaks  beyond.  The  fugitive,  his  suspicions 
now  completely  lulled,  followed  and  when  he  was  quite 
in  the  center  of  this  chosen  ground,  Pablo  emerged  from 
the  shelter  of  the  oaks  and  bore  down  upon  him.  The 
mare  was  at  a  fast  lope  and  Pablo's  rawhide  riata  was 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

uncoiled   now;   the  loop   swung   in   slow,   fateful   cir 
cles 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  his  purpose.  With  a 
cry  that  was  curiously  animal-like,  the  man  ran  for 
the  nearest  brush.  Twenty  feet  from  him,  Pablo  made 
his  cast  and  shrieked  exultantly  as  the  loop  settled 
over  his  prey.  A  jerk  and  it  was  fast  around  the 
fellow's  mid-riff;  a  half  hitch  around  the  pommel,  a 
touch  of  a  huge  Mexican  spur  to  the  flank  of  the  fleet 
little  black  thoroughbred  and  Pablo  Artelan  was 
headed  for  home !  He  picked  his  way  carefully  in  order 
that  he  might  not  snag  in  the  bushes  that  which  he 
dragged  behind  him,  and  he  leaned  forward  in  the  sad 
dle  to  equalize  the  weight  of  the  THING  that  bumped 
and  leaped  and  slid  along  the  ground  behind  him. 
There  had  been  screams  at  first,  mingled  with  Pablo's 
exultant  shouts  of  victory,  but  by  the  time  the  river 
was  reached  there  was  no  sound  but  a  scraping,  slither 
ing  one — the  sound  of  the  vengeance  of  Pablo  Artelan. 

When  he  reached  the  wagon  road  he  brought  the 
mare  to  a  walk.  He  did  not  look  back,  for  he  knew  his 
power;  the  scraping,  slithering  sound  was  music  to  his 
ears  ;  it  was  all  the  assurance  he  desired.  As  calmly  as, 
during  the  spring  round-up,  he  dragged  a  calf  up  to 
the  branding  fire,  he  dragged  his  victim  up  into  the 
front  yard  of  the  Rancho  Palomar  and  paused  before 
the  patio  gate. 

"Ho!  Senor  Parker!"  he  shouted.  "Come  forth.  I 
have  something  for  the  senor.  Queeck,  Senor!" 

The  gate  opened  and  John  Parker  stepped  out. 
"Hello,  Pablo!  What's  all  the  row  about?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  255 

Pablo  turned  in  his  saddle  and  pointed.  "Mira! 
Look!"  he  croaked. 

"Good  God!"  Parker  cried.     "What  is  that?" 

"Once  he  use'  for  be  one  Jap.  One  good  friend  of 
you,  I  theenk,  Senor  Parker.  He  like  for  save  you 
much  trouble,  I  theenk,  so  he  keel  my  Don  Mike — an' 
for  that  I  have — ah,  but  you  see !  An*  now,  senor,  eet 
is  all  right  for  take  the  Rancho  Palomar!  Take  eet, 
take  eet!  Ees  nobody  for  care  now — nobody!  Eef 
eet  don'  be  for  you  daughter  I  don't  let  you  have  eet. 
No,  sir,  I  keel  it  you  so  queeck — but  my  Don  Mike  hes 
never  forget  hes  one  great  cabattero — so  Pablo  Artelan 
mus'  not  forget,  too — you  sleep  in  theese  hacienda,  you 
eit  the  food — ah,  senor,  I  am  so  'shame'  for  you — and 
my  Don  Mike — hees  dead — hees  dead " 

He  slid  suddenly  off  the  black  mare  and  lay  uncon- 
•*cious  in  the  dust  beside  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

again  a  tragic  scene  had  been  enacted  under 
the  shade  of  the  catalpa  tree  before  the  Farrel 
hacienda.  The  shock  of  a  terrible,  unexpected  trend 
of  events  heralded  by  the  arrival  of  Pablo  Artelan  and 
his  victim  had,  seemingly,  paralyzed  John  Parker  men 
tally  and  physically.  He  felt  again  a  curious  cold, 
weak,  empty  feeling  in  his  breast.  It  was  the  con 
comitant  of  defeat;  he  had  felt  it  twice  before  when 
he  had  been  overwhelmed  and  mangled  bv  the  wolves 
of  Wall  Street. 

He  was  almost  nauseated.  Not  at  sight  of  the  dusty, 
bloody,  shapeless  bundle  that  lay  at  the  end  of  Pablo's 
riata,  but  with  the  realization  that,  indirectly,  he  had 
been  responsible  for  all  of  this. 

Pablo's  shrill,  agonized  denunciation  had  fallen  upon 
deaf  ears,  once  the  old  majordomo  had  conveyed  to 
Parker  the  information  of  Don  Mike's  death. 

"The  rope — take  it  off!"  he  protested  to  the  uncon 
scious  Pablo.  "It's  cutting  him  in  two.  He  looks  like 
a  link  of  sausage!  Ugh!  A  Jap!  Horrible!  I'm 
smeared — I  can't  explain — nobody  in  this  country  will 
believe  me — Pablo  will  kill  me " 

He  sat  down  on  the  bench  under  the  catalpa  tree, 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  closed  his  eyes. 
When  he  ventured  again  to  look  up,  he  observed  that 
Pablo,  in  falling  from  his  horse,  had  caught  one  huge 
Mexican  spur  on  the  cantle  of  his  saddle  and  was  sus 
pended  by  the  heel,  grotesquely,  like  a  dead  fowl.  The 

256 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAB  257 

black  mare,  a  trained  roping  horse,  stood  patiently, 
her  feet  braced  a  little,  still  keeping  a  strain  on  the 
riata. 

Parker  roused  himself.  With  his  pocket  knife  he 
cut  the  spur  strap,  eased  the  majordomo  to  the  ground, 
carried  him  to  the  bench  and  stretched  him  out  thereon. 
Then,  grasping  the  mare  by  the  bridle,  he  led  her 
around  the  adobe  wall;  he  shuddered  inwardly  as  he 
heard  the  steady,  slithering  sound  behind  her. 

"Got  to  get  that  Thing  out  of  the  way,"  he  mum 
bled.  The  great  barn  door  was  open;  from  within  he 
could  hear  his  chauffeur  whistling.  So  he  urged  the 
mare  to  a  trot  and  got  past  the  barn  without  having 
been  observed.  An  ancient  straw  stack  stood  in  the 
rear  of  the  barn  and  in  the  shadow  of  this  he  halted, 
removed  the  riata  from  the  pommel,  dragged  the  body 
close  to  the  stack,  and  with  a  pitchfork  he  hastily  cov 
ered  it  with  old,  weather-beaten  straw.  All  of  this  he 
accomplished  without  any  purpose  more  definite  than 
a  great  desire  to  hide  from  his  wife  and  from  his  daugh 
ter  this  offense  which  Pablo  had  thrust  upon  him. 

He  led  the  black  mare  into  the  barn  and  tied  her. 
Then  he  returned  to  Pablo. 

The  old  Indian  was  sitting  up.  At  sight  of  Parker 
he  commenced  to  curse  bitterly,  in  Spanish  and 
English,  this  invader  who  had  brought  woe  upon  the 
house  of  Farrel.  But  John  Parker  was  a  white  man. 

"Shut  up,  you  saddle-colored  old  idol,"  he  roared, 
and  shook  Pablo  until  the  latter's  teeth  rattled  to 
gether.  "If  the  mischief  is  done  it  can't  be  helped — • 
and  it  was  none  of  my  making.  Pull  yourself  together 
and  tell  me  where  this  killing  occurred.  LWe've  got  to 
get  Don  Miguel's  body." 


258  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

For  answer  Pablo  snarled  and  tried  to  stab  him, 
so  Parker,  recalling  a  fragment  of  the  athletic  lore  of 
his  youth,  got  a  wristlock  on  the  old  man  and  took  the 
dirk  away  from  him.  "Now  then,"  he  commanded,  as 
he  bumped  Pablo's  head  against  the  adobe  wall,  "you 
behave  yourself  and  help  me  find  Don  Miguel  and 
bring  him  in." 

Pablo's  fury  suddenly  left  him;  again  he  was  the 
servant,  respectful,  deferential  to  his  master's  guest. 
"Forgive  me,  senor,"  he  muttered,  "I  have  been  crazy 
in  the  head." 

"Not  so  crazy  that  you  didn't  do  a  good  job  on  that 
Jap  murderer.  Come  now,  old  chap.  Buck  up!  We 
can't  go  after  him  in  my  automobile.  Have  you  some 
sort  of  wagon?" 

"Si,  senor." 

"Then  come  inside  a  moment.  We  both  need  a 
drink.  We're  shaking  like  a  pair  of  dotards." 

He  picked  up  Pablo's  dirk  and  give  it  back  to  the 
old  man.  Pablo  acknowledged  this  courtesy  with  a 
bow  and  followed  to  Parker's  room,  where  the  latter 
poured  two  glasses  of  whisky.  Silently  they  drank. 

"Gracias,  senor.  I  go  hitch  up  one  team,"  Pablo 
promised,  and  disappeared  at  once. 

For  about  ten  minutes  Parker  remained  in  his  room, 
thinking.  His  wife  and  Kay  had  started,  afoot,  to 
visit  the  Mission  shortly  after  Don  Mike  and  Pablo 
had  left  the  ranch  that  morning,  and  for  this  Parker 
was  duly  grateful  to  Providence.  He  shuddered  to 
think  what  the  effect  upon  them  would  have  been  had 
they  been  present  when  Pablo  made  his  spectacular  en 
trance;  he  rejoiced  at  an  opportunity  to  get  himself 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  259 

in  hand  against  the  return  of  Kay  and  her  mother  to 
the  ranch  house. 

"That  wretched  Okada!"  he  groaned.  "He  con 
cluded  that  the  simplest  and  easiest  way  to  an  imme 
diate  consummation  of  our  interrupted  deal  would  be 
the  removal  of  young  Farrel.  So  he  hired  one  of  his 
countrymen  to  do  the  job,  believing  or  at  least  hoping, 
that  suspicion  would  naturally  be  aroused  against  that 
Basque,  Loustalot,  who  is  known  to  have  an  old  feud 
with  the  Farrels.  Kate  is  right.  I've  trained  with 
white  men  all  my  life;  the  moment  I  started  to  train 
with  pigmented  mongrels  and  Orientals  I  had  to  d6 
with  a  new  psychology,  with  mongrelized  moral  codes — 
ah,  God,  that  splendid,  manly  fellow  killed  by  the  in 
satiable  lust  of  an  alien  race  for  this  land  of  his  they 
covet !  God  forgive  me !  And  poor  Kay " 

He  was  near  to  tears  now;  fearful  that  he  might 
be  caught  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  he  fled  to  the  barn 
and  helped  Pablo  hitch  a  team  of  draft  horses  to  an 
old  spring  wagon.  Pablo's  eustomary  taciturnity  and 
primitive  stoicism  had  again  descended  upon  him  like 
a  protecting  garment;  his  madness  had  passed  and  he 
moved  around  the  team  briskly  and  efficiently.  Parker 
climbed  to  the  seat  beside  him  as  Pablo  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  started  out  of  the  farmyard  at  a  fast  trot. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  paused  at  the  mouth  of  the 
draw  down  which  Farrel  had  been  riding  when  fired 
upon.  Pablo  turned  the  team,  tied  them  to  an  oak  tree 
and  started  up  the  draw  at  a  swift  dog  trot,  with 
Parker  at  his  heels. 

Jammed  rather  tightly  in  a  narrow  little  dry  water 
course  that  ran  through  the  center  of  the  draw  they 
•found  the  body  of  Don  Mike.  He  was  lying  face  down- 


260  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ward;  Parker  saw  that  flies  already  resetted  a  wound 
thick  with  blood  clots  on  top  of  his  head. 

"Poor,  poor  boy,"  Parker  cried  agonizedly. 

Pablo  straddled  the  little  watercourse,  got  a  grip 
around  his  master's  body  and  lifted  it  out  to  Parker, 
who  received  it  and  laid  the  limp  form  out  on  the  grass. 
While  he  stood  looking  down  at  Don  Mike's  white,  re 
laxed  face,  Pablo  knelt,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
commenced  to  pray  for  the  peaceful  repose  of  his 
master's  soul.  It  was  a  long  prayer;  Parker,  waiting 
patiently  for  him  to  finish,  did  not  know  that  Pablo 
recited  the  litany  for  the  dying. 

"Come,  Pablo,  my  good  fellow,  you've  prayed 
enough,"  he  suggested  presently.  "Help  me  carry  Don 
Miguel  down  to  the  wagon — Pablo,  lie's  alive!" 

"Hah !"  Pablo's  exclamation  was  a  sort  of  surprised 
bleat.  "Madre  de  Crist o!  Look  to  me,  Don  Miguel. 
Ah,  little  dam'  fool,  you  make  believe  to  die,  no?"  he 
charged  hysterically. 

Don  Mike's  black  eyes  opened  slightly  and  his  slack 
lower  jaw  tightened  in  a  ghastly  little  grimace.  The 
transported  Pablo  seized  him  and  shook  him  furiously, 
meanwhile  deluging  Don  Mike  with  a  stream  of  affec 
tionate  profanity  that  fell  from  his  lips  like  a  benedic 
tion. 

"Listen,"  Don  Mike  murmured  presently.  "Pablo's 
new  litany." 

"Rascal !  Little,  wicked  heretic !  Blood  of  the  devil ! 
Speak,  Don  Miguel." 

"Shut  up  !  Took  your — time — getting  me — out — 
confounded  ditch — damned — lazy — beggar " 

Pablo  leaped  to  his  feet,  his   dusky  face  radiant. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  261 

"You  hear !"  he  yelled.  "Senor  Parker,  you  hear  those 
boy  give  to  me  hell  l&e  old  times,  no?" 

*;You  ran — you  Colorado  maduro  good-for-nothing 
— left  me  stuck  in — ditch — let  bushwhacker — get  away 
— fix  you  for  this,  Pablo." 

Pablo's  eyes  popped  in  ecstasy.  He  grinned  like  a 
gargoyle.  "You  hear  those  boy,  seflor?"  he  reiterated 
happily.  "I  tell  you  those  boy  he  like  ol'  Pablo.  The 
night  he  come  back  he  rub  my  head;  yesterday  he 
poke  the  rib  of  me. with  the  thumb — now  pretty  soon 
he  say  sometheeng,  I  bet  you." 

"Shut  up,  I  tell  you."  Don  Mike's  voice,  though 
very  faint,  was  petulant.  "You're  a  total  idiot.  Find 
my  horse — get  rifle — trail  that  man — who  shot  me — - 
get  him-^-damn  your  prayers — get  him " 

"Ah,  Don  Miguel,"  Pablo  assured  him  in  Spanish,  in 
tones  that  were  prideful  beyond  measure,  "that  unfor 
tunate  fellow  has  been  shaking  hands  with  the  devil  for 
the  last  forty-five  minutes." 

Don  Mike  opened  his  eyes  widely.  He  was  rapidly 
regaining  his  full  consciousness.  "Your  work,  Pablo  ?" 

"Mine — with  the  help  of  God,  as  your  illustrious 
grandfather,  the  first  Don  Miguel,  would  have  said. 
But  you  are  pleased  to  doubt  me  so  I  shall  show  you 
the  carcass  of  the  animal.  I  roped  him  and  dragged 
him  for  two  miles  behind  the  black  mare." 

Don  Mike  smiled  and  closed  his  eyes.  "I  will  go 
home,"  he  said  presently,  and  Pablo  and  Parker  lifted 
him  between  them  and  carried  him  down  to  the  waiting 
wagon.  Half  an  hour  later  he  was  stretched  on  his 
bed  at  the  hacienda,  while  Carolina  washed  his  head 
with  a  solution  of  warm  water  and  lysol.  John  Parker, 
rejoiced  beyond  measure,  stood  beside  him  and  watched 


262  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

this    operation    with   an    alert   and   sympathetic    eye. 

t4That  doesn't  look  like  a  bullet  wound,"  he  declared, 
after  an  examination  of  the  rent  in  Don  Mike's  scalp. 
"Resembles  the  wound  made  by  what  reporters  always 
refer  to  as  'some  blunt  instrument.'  The  scalp  is  split 
but  the  flesh  around  the  wound  is  swollen  as  from  a 
blow.  You  have  a  nice  lump  on  your  head,  Farrel." 

"Aches  terribly,"  Don  Mike  murmured.  "I  had  dis 
mounted  to  tighten  my  cinch;  going  down  hill  the 
saddle  had  slid  up  on  my  horse's  withers.  I  was  tuck 
ing  in  the  latigo.  When  I  woke  up  I  was  lying  on  my 
face,  wedged  tightly  in  that  little  dry  ditch;  I  was  ill 
and  dazed  and  too  weak  to  pull  myself  out ;  I  was  lying 
with  my  head  down  hill  and  I  suppose  I  lost  conscious 
ness  again,  after  awhile.  Pablo!" 

"Si,  senorr 

"You  caught  the  man  who  shot  me.  What  did  you 
do  with  him?" 

"Oh,  those  fellow  plenty  good  and  dead,  Don 
Miguel." 

"He  dragged  the  body  home  at  the  end  of  his  rope," 
Parker  explained.  "He  thought  you  had  been  done  for 
and  he  must  have  gone  war  mad.  I  covered  the  body  of 
the  Jap  with  straw  from  that  stack  out  by  the  barn." 

"Jap,  eh?"  Don  Mike  smiled.  Then,  after  a  long 
silence.  "I  suppose,  Mr.  Parker,  you  understand 
now — " 

"Yes,  yes,  Farrel.     Please  do  not  rub  it  in." 

"Okada  wants  the  San  Gregorio  rather  badly, 
doesn't  he?  Couldn't  wait.  The  enactment  of  that 
anti-alien  land  bill  that  will  come  up  in  the  legislature 
next  year — do  Mrs.  Parker  and  your  daughter  know 
about  this  attempt  to  assassinate  me?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  263 

"No." 

"They  must  not  know.  Plant  that  Jap  somewhere 
and  do  it  quickly.  Confound  you,  Pablo,  you  should 
have  known  better  than  to  drag  your  kill  home,  like  an 
old  she-cat  bringing  in  a  gopher.  As  for  my  head — 
well,  I  was  thrown  from  my  horse  and  struck  on  a  sharp 
rock.  The  ladies  would  be  frightened  and  worried  if 
they  thought  somebody  was  gunning  for  me.  When 
Bill  Conway  shows  up  with  your  spark  plugs  I'd  be 
obliged,  Mr.  Parker,  if  you'd  run  me  in  to  El  Toro. 
I'll  have  to  have  my  head  tailored  a  trifle,  I  think." 

With  a  weak  wave  of  his  hand  he  dismissed  every 
body,  so.  Parker  and  Pablo  adjourned  to  the  stables 
to  talk  over  the  events  of  the  morning.  Standing  pa 
tiently  at  the  corral  gate  they  found  the  gray  horse, 
waiting  to  be  unsaddled — a  favor  which  Pablo  pro 
ceeded  at  once  to  extend. 

"Mir a!"  he  called  suddenly  and  directed  Parker's 
attention  to  the  pommel  of  Don  Mike's  fancy  saddle. 
The  rawhide  covering  on  the  shank  of  the  pommel  had 
been  torn  and  scored  and  the  steel  beneath  lay  exposed. 
"You  see?"  Pablo  queried.  "You  understan',  senor?" 

"No,  I  must  confess  I  do  not,  Pablo." 

"Don  Miguel  is  standing  beside  thees  horse.  He 
makes  tighter  the  saddle;  he  is  tying  those  latigo  and 
he  have  the  head  bent  leetle  bit  while  he  pull  those 
latigo  through  the  ring.  Bang!  Those  Jap  shoot  at 
Don  Miguel.  He  miss,  but  the  bullet  she  hit  thees  pom 
mel,  she  go  flat  against  the  steel,  she  bounce  off  and 
hit  Don  Miguel  on  top  the  head.  The  force  for  keel 
heem  is  use'  up  when  the  bullet  hit  thees  pommel,  but 
still  those  bullet  got  plenty  force  for  knock  Don  Miguel 
seelly,  no?" 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Spent  ball,  eh?    I  think  you're  right,  Pablo." 

Pablo  relapsed  into  one  of  his  infrequent  Gringo 
solecisms.  "You  bet  you  my  life  you  know  eet,"  he 
said. 

John  Parker  took  a  hundred  dollar  bill  from  his 
pocket.  "Pablo,"  he  said  with  genuine  feeling,  "you're 
a  splendid  fellow.  I  know  you  don't  like  me,  but  per 
haps  that  is  because  you  do  not  know  me  very  well. 
Don  Miguel  knows  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  at 
tempt  to  kill  him,  and  if  Don  Miguel  bears  me  no  ill- 
will,  I'm  sure  you  should  not.  I  wish  you  would  accept 
this  hundred  dollar  bill,  Pablo?" 

Pablo  eyed  the  bill  askance.  "What  for?"  he  de 
manded. 

"For  the  way  you  handled  that  murdering  Jap. 
Pablo,  that  was  a  bully  job  of  work.  Please  accept 
this  bill.  If  I  didn't  like  you  I  would  not  offer  it  to 
you." 

"Well,  I  guess  Carolina  mebbeso  she  can  use  eet.  But 
first  I  ask  Don  Miguel  if  eet  is  all  right  for  me  take 
eet."  He  departed  for  the  house  to  return  presently 
with  an  anticipatory  smile  on  his  dusky  countenance. 
"Don  Miguel  say  to  me,  senor:  Tablo,  any  people  she's 
stay  my  house  he's  do  what  she  please.'  Gracias,  Sefior 
Parker."  And  he  pouched  the  bill.  "Mille  gracias, 
seTior" 

"Pray,  do  not  mention  it,  Pablo." 

"All  right,"  Pablo  agreed.  "Eef  you  don't  like  eet, 
well,  I  don'  tell  somebody!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BILL  CONWAY  driving  up  the  San  Gregorio  in  his 
prehistoric  automobile,  overtook  Kay  and  her 
mother  walking  home  from  the  Mission,  and  drove 
them  the  remainder  of  the  distance  back  to  the  ha 
cienda.  Arrived  here,  old  Conway  resurrected  the  stolen 
spark  plugs  and  returned  them  to  Parker's  chauffeur, 
after  which  he  invited  himself  to  luncheon.  Appar 
ently  his  raid  of  the  night  previous  rested  lightly  on 
his  conscience,  and  Parker's  failure  to  quarrel  with 
him  lifted  him  immediate^  out  of  any  fogs  of  appre 
hension  that  may  have  clouded  his  sunny  soul. 

"Hello,  Conway,"  Parker  greeted  him,  as  the  old 
contractor  came  into  the  dining  room  and  hung  his 
battered  old  hat  on  a  wall  peg.  "Did  you  bring  back 
my  spark  plugs?" 

"Did  better'n  that,"  Conway  retorted.  "The  por 
celain  on  one  plug  was  cracked  and  sooner  or  later 
you  were  bound  to  have  trouble  with  it.  So  I  bought 
you  a  new  one." 

"Do  any  good  for  yourself  in  El  Toro  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"Nope.  Managed  to  put  over  a  couple  of  deals  that 
will  help  the  boy  out  a  little,  though.  Attached  your 
bank  account  and  your  bank  stock.  I  would  have 
plastered  your  two  automobiles,  but  that  tender-hearted 
Miguel  declared  that  was  carrying  a  grudge  too  far. 
By  the  way,  where  is  our  genial  young  host?" 

2G5 


266  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Horse  bucked  him  off  this  morning.  He  lit  on  a 
rock  and  ripped  a  furrow  in  his  sinful  young  head.  So 
he's  sleeping  off  a  headache." 

"Oh,  is  he  badly  hurt?"  Kay  cried  anxiously. 

"Not  fatally,"  Parker  replied  with  a  faintly  knowing 
smile.  "But  he's  weak  and  dizzy  and  he's  lost  a  lot  of 
blood ;  every  time  he  winks  for  the  next  month  his  head 
will  ache,  however." 

"Which  horse  policed  him?"  Bill  Conway  queried 
casually. 

"The  gray  one — his  father's  old  horse." 

"Hum-m-m!"  murmured  Conway  and  pursued  the 
subject  no  further,  nor  did  he  evince  the  slightest  in 
terest  in  the  answers  which  Parker  framed  glibly  to 
meet  the  insistent  demand  for  information  from  his  wife 
and  daughter.  The  meal  concluded,  he  excused  himself 
and  sought  Pablo,  of  whom  he  demanded  and  received  a 
meticulous  account  of  the  "accident"  to  Miguel  Farrel. 
For  Bill  Conway  knew  that  the  gray  horse  never  bucked 
and  that  Miguel  Farrel  was  a  hard  man  to  throw. 

"Guess  I'll  have  to  sit  in  at  this  game,"  he  decided, 
and  forthwith  climbed  into  his  rattletrap  automobile 
and  returned  to  El  Toro. 

During  the  drive  in  he  surrendered  his  mind  to  a 
contemplation  of  all  of  the  aspects  of  the  case,  and 
arrived  at  the  following  conclusions: 

Item.  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  had  seen  the  assassin 
walking  in  from  the  south  about  sunset  the  day  pre 
vious.  If  the  fellow  had  walked  all  the  way  across 
country  from  La  Questa  valley  he  must  have  started 
about  two  P.  M. 

Item.  The  Potato  Baron  had  left  the  Farrel  ha 
cienda  about  one  o'clock  the  same  day  and  had,  doubt- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  267 

less,  arrived  in  El  Toro  about  two  o'clock.  Evidently 
he  had  communicated  with  the  man  from  La  Questa 
valley  (assuming  that  Don  Miguel's  assailant  had  come 
from  there)  by  telephone  from  El  Toro. 

Arrived  in  El  Toro,  Bill  Conway  drove  to  the  sher 
iff's  office.  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  had  returned  an 
hour  previous  from  the  Rancho  Palomar  and  to  him 
Conway  related  the  events  of  the  morning.  "Now, 
Nick,"  he  concluded,  "you  drift  over  to  the  telephone 
office  and  in  your  official  capacity  cast  your  eye  over 
the  record  of  long  distance  telephone  calls  yesterday 
afternoon  and  question  the  girl  on  duty." 

"Bueno!"  murmured  Don  Nicolas  and  proceeded  at 
once  to  the  telephone  office.  Ten  minutes  later  he  re 
turned. 

"Okada  talked  to  one  Kano  Ugichi,  of  La  Questa,  at 
2:08  yesterday  afternoon,"  he  reported. 

"Considerable  water  will  run  under  the  bridges  before 
Kano  Ugichi  returns  to  the  bosom  of  his  family,"  Con- 
way  murmured  sympathetically.  "He's  so  badly 
spoiled,  Nick,  we've  decided  to  call  him  a  total  loss  and 
not  put  up  any  headstone  to  his  memory.  It  is  Farrel's 
wish  that  the  matter  be  forgotten  by  everybody  con 
cerned." 

"I  have  already  forgotten  it,  my  friend,"  the  urbane 
Don  Nicolas  replied  graciously,  and  Bill  Conway  de 
parted  forthwith  for  the  Hotel  de  Las  Rosas. 

"Got  a  Jap  name  of  Okada  stopping  here?"  he  de 
manded,  and  was  informed  that  Mr.  Okada  occupied 
room  17,  but  that  he  was  ill  and  could  not  be  seen. 

"He'll  see  me,"  quoth  Bill  Conway,  and  clumped  up 
the  stairs.  He  rapped  peremptorily  on  the  door  of 
room  17,  then  tried  the  knob.  The  door  opened  and 


268  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  old  contractor  stepped  into  the  room  to  find  the 
Potato  Baron  sitting  up  in  bed,  staring  at  him.  Utter 
ing  no  word,  Bill  Conway  strode  to  the  bed,  seized  the 
Japanese  by  the  throat  and  commenced  to  choke  him 
with  neatness  and  dispatch.  When  the  man's  face  was 
turning  purple  and  his  eyes  rolling  wildly,  Conway  re 
leased  his  death-grip  and  his  victim  fell  back  on  the 
mattress,  whereupon  Bill  Conway  sat  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed  and  watched  life  surge  back  into  the  little 
brown  man. 

"If  you  let  one  little  peep  out  of  you,  Okada,"  he 
threatened — and  snarled  ferociously. 

"Please,  please,"  Okada  pleaded.  "I  no  unnerstan'. 
'Scuse,  please.  You  make  one  big  mistake,  yes,  I  zink 
so." 

"I  do,  indeed.  I  permit  you  to  live,  which  I  wouldn't 
do  if  I  knew  where  to  hide  your  body.  Listen  to  me, 
Okada.  You  sent  a  countryman  of  yours  from  the  La 
Questa  valley  over  to  the  Rancho  Palomar  to  kill  Don 
Miguel  Farrel.  I  have  the  man's  name,  I  know  the  hour 
you  telephoned  to  him,  I  know  exactly  what  you  said 
to  him  and  how  much  you  paid  him  to  do  the  job. 
Well,  this  friend  of  yours  overplayed  his  hand;  he 
didn't  succeed  in  killing  Farrel,  but  he  did  succeed  in 
getting  himself  captured." 

He  paused,  with  fine  dramatic  instinct,  to  watch  the 
effect  of  this  broadside.  A  faint  nervous  twitch  of  the 
chin  and  the  eyelids — then  absolute  immobility.  The 
Potato  Baron  had  assumed  the  "poker  face"  of  all 
Orientals — wherefore  Bill  Conway  knew  the  man  was 
on  his  guard  and  would  admit  nothing.  So  he  decided 
not  to  make  any  effort  to  elicit  information,  but  to 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  269 

proceed  on  the  theory  that  everything  was  known  to 
him. 

"Naturally,"  he  continued,  "that  man  Pablo  has 
ways  and  means  of  making  even  a  stubborn  Jap  tell 
everything  he  knows.  Now  listen,  O  child  of  Nippon,  to 
the  white  man's  words  of  wisdom.  You're  going  to  de 
part  from  El  Toro  in  a  general  northerly  direction 
and  you're  going  to  do  it  immediately  if  not  sooner. 
And  you're  never  coming  back.  The  day  you  do,  that 
day  you  land  in  the  local  calaboose  with  a  charge  of 
conspiracy  to  commit  murder  lodged  against  you.  We 
have  the  witnesses  to  prove  our  case  and  any  time 
you're  tried  by  a  San  Marcos  County  jury  before  a  San 
Marcos  County  judge  you'll  rot  in  San  Quentin  for  life. 
And  further:  If  Miguel  Farrel  should,  within  the  next 
two  years,  die  out  of  his  own  bed  and  with  his  boots 
on,  you  will  be  killed  on  general  principles,  whether 
you're  guilty  or  not.  Do  I  make  myself  clear  or  must 
I  illustrate  the  point  with  motion  pictures?" 

"Yes,  sir.  'Scuse,  please.  Yes,  sir,  I  zink  I  go  very 
quick,  sir." 

"Three  cheers!  The  sooner  the  quicker — the  next 
train,  let  us  say.  I'll  be  at  the  station  to  see  you  off." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  Potato  Baron, 
mounting  painfully  the  steps  of  the  observation  car, 
made  hasty  appraisal  of  the  station  platform  and  ob 
served  Bill  Conway  swinging  his  old  legs  from  his  perch 
on  an  express  truck.  He  favored  Okada  with  a  very 
deliberate  nod  and  a  sweeping,  semi-milit,ary  salute  of 
farewell. 

When  the  train  pulled  out,  the  old  contractor  slid 
off  the  express  truck  and  waddled  over  to  his  automo 
bile.  "Well,  Liz,"  he  addressed  that  interesting  relic, 


270  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I'll  bet  a  red  apple  I've  put  the  fear  of  Buddha  in  that 
Jap's  soul.  He  won't  try  any  more  tricks  in  San 
Marcos  County.  He  certainly  did  assimilate  my  advice 
and  drag  it  out  of  town  muy  pronto.  Well,  Liz,  as  the 
feller  says :  'The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth  and 
a  troubled  conscience  addeth  speed  to  the  hind  legs.'  " 

As  he  was  driving  out  of  town  to  the  place  of  his 
labors  at  Agua  Caliente  basin,  he  passed  the  Parker 
limousine  driving  in.  Between  John  Parker's  wife  and 
John  Parker's  daughter,  Don  Miguel  Jose  Farrel  sat 
with  white  face  and  closed  eyes.  In  the  seat  beside  his 
chauffeur  John  Parker  sat,  half  turned  and  gazing  at 
Don  Miguel  with  troubled  eyes. 

"That  girl's  sweeter  than  a  royal  flush,"  Bill  Con- 
way  murmured.  "I  wonder  if  she's  good  for  a  fifty 
thousand  dollar  touch  to  pay  my  cement  bill  pending 
the  day  I  squeeze  it  out  of  her  father?  Got  to  have 
cement  to  build  a  dam — got  to  have  cash  to  get  cement 
— got  to  have  a  dam  to  save  the  Rancho  Palomar — 
got  to  have  the  Rancho  Palomar  before  we  can  pull  off 
a  wedding — got  to  pull  off  a  wedding  in  order  to  be 
happy — got  to  be  happy  or  we  all  go  to  hell  together. 
.  .  .  Well  .  .  .  I'm  going  down  to  Miguel's  place  to 
dinner  to-night.  I'll  ask  her." 

The  entire  Parker  family  was  present  when  the  doc 
tor  in  El  Toro  washed  and  disinfected  Parrel's  wound 
and,  at  the  suggestion  of  Kay,  made  an  X-ray  photo 
graph  of  his  head.  The  plate,  when  developed,  showed 
a  small  fracture,  the  contemplation  of  which  aroused 
considerable  interest  in  all  present,  with  the  exception 
of  the  patient.  Don  Mike  was  still  dizzy;  because  his 
vision  was  impaired  he  kept  his  eyes  closed ;  he  heard  a 
humming  noise  as  if  a  lethargic  bumble  bee  had  taken 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  £71 

up  his  residence  inside  the  Farrel  ears.  Kay,  observ 
ing  him  closely,  realized  that  he  was  very  weak,  that 
only  by  the  exercise  of  a  very  strong  will  had  he  suc 
ceeded  in  sitting  up  during  the  journey  in  from  the 
ranch.  His  brow  was  cold  and  wet  with  perspiration, 
his  breathing  shallow  ;  his  dark,  tanned  face  was  now  a 
greenish  gray. 

The  girl  saw  a  shadow  of  deep  apprehension  settle 
over  her  father's  face  as  the  doctor  pointed  to  the  frac 
ture.  "Any  danger?"  she  heard  him  whisper. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "Nothing  to  worry 
about.  An  operation  will  not  be  necessary.  But  he's 
had  a  narrow  squeak.  With  whom  has  he  been  fight- 


"Thrown  from  his  horse  and  struck  his  head  on  a 
rock,"  Parker  replied  glibly. 

Kay  saw  the  doctor's  eyebrows  lift  slightly.  "Did 
he  tell  you  that  was  what  happened  ?" 

Parker  hesitated  a  moment  and  nodded  an  affirma 
tive. 

"Wound's  too  clean  for  that  story  to  impress  me," 
the  doctor  whispered.  "Not  a  speck  of  foreign  matter 
in  it.  Moreover,  the  wound  is  almost  on  top  of  his 
head.  Now,  if  he  had  been  thrown  from  a  horse  and 
had  struck  on  top  of  his  head  on  a  rock  with  sufficient 
force  to  lacerate  his  scalp  and  produce  a  minor  frac 
ture,  he  would,  undoubtedly,  have  crushed  his  skull 
more  thoroughly  or  broken  his  neck.  Also,  his  face 
would  have  been  marred  more  or  less  !  And  if  that  isn't 
good  reasoning,  I  might  add  that  Miguel  Farrel  is  one 
of  the  two  or  three  men  in  this  world  who  have  ridden 
Cyclone,  the  most  famous  outlaw  horse  in  America." 

Parker  shrugged  and,  by  displaying  no  interest  in 


272  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  doctor's  deductions,  brought  the  conversation  to  a 
close. 

That  the  return  trip  to  the  ranch,  in  Don  Mike's 
present  condition,  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  was  ap 
parent  from  the  patient's  condition.  He  was,  therefore, 
removed  to  the  single  small  hospital  which  El  Toro 
boasted,  and  after  seeing  him  in  charge  of  a  nurse  the 
Parker  family  returned  to  the  ranch.  Conversation 
languished  during  the  trip ;  a  disturbed  conscience  on 
the  part  of  the  father,  and  on  the  part  of  Kay  and 
her  mother  an  intuition,  peculiar  to  their  sex  and 
aroused  by  the  doctor's  comments,  that  events  of  more 
than  ordinary  portent  had  occurred  that  day,  were  re 
sponsible  for  this. 

At  the  ranch  Parker  found  his  attorney  who  had 
motored  out  from  El  Toro,  waiting  to  confer  with  him 
regarding  Bill  Conway's  adroit  manoeuver  of  the  morn 
ing.  Mrs.  Parker  busied  herself  with  some  fancy  work 
while  her  daughter  sought  the  Farrel  library  and  pre 
tended  to  read.  An  atmosphere  of  depression  appeared 
to  have  settled  over  the  rancho ;  Kay  observed  that  £ven 
Pablo  moved"  about  in  a  furtive  manner ;  he  cleaned  and 
oiled  his  rifle  and  tested  the  sights  with  shots  at  vary 
ing  ranges.  Carolina's  face  was  grave  and  her  sweet 
falsetto  voice  was  not  raised  in  song  once  during  the 
afternoon. 

About  four  o'clock  when  the  shadows  began  to 
lengthen,  Kay  observed  Pablo  riding  forth  on  his  old 
pinto  pony.  Before  him  on  the  saddle  he  carried  a  pick 
and  shovel  and  in  reply  to  her  query  as  to  what  he 
purposed  doing,  he  replied  that  he  had  to  clean  out  a 
spring  where  the  cattle  were  accustomed  to  drink.  So 
she  returned  to  the  library  and  Pablo  repaired  to  a 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  273 

willow  thicket  in  the  sandy  wash  of  the  San  Gregorio 
and  dug  a  grave.  That  night,  at  twilight,  while  the 
family  and  servants  were  at  dinner,  Pablo  dragged  his 
problem  down  to  this  grave,  with  the  aid  of  the  pinto 
pony,  and  hid  it  forever  from  the  sight  of  men.  Neither 
directly  nor  indirectly  was  his  exploit  ever  referred  to 
again  and  no  inquiry  was  ever  instituted  to  fathom  the 
mystery  of  the  abrupt  disappearance  of  Kano  Ugichi. 
Indeed,  the  sole  regret  at  his  untimely  passing  was 
borne  by  Pablo,  who,  shrinking  from  the  task  of  re 
moving  his  riata  from  his  victim  (for  he  had  a  primi 
tive  man's  horror  of  touching  the  dead),  was  forced 
to  bury  his  dearest  possession  with  the  adventurer  from 
La  Questa — a  circumstance  which  served  still  further 
to  strengthen  his  prejudice  against  the  Japanese  race. 

The  following  morning  Pablo  saddled  Panchito  for 
Kay  and,  at  her  request,  followed  her,  in  the  capacity 
of  groom,  to  Bill  Conway's  camp  at  Agua  Caliente 
basin.  The  old  schemer  \7as  standing  in  the  door  of  his 
rough  temporary  office  when  Kay  rode  up ;  he  advanced 
to  meet  her. 

"Well,  young  lady,"  he  greeted  her,  "what's  on  your 
mind  this  morning  in  addition  to  that  sassy  little  hat." 

"A  number  of  things.  I  want  to  know  what  really 
happened  to  Mr.  Farrel  yesterday  forenoon." 

"My  dear  girl!    Why  do  you  consult  me?" 

She  leaned  from  her  horse  and  lowered  her  voice. 
"Because  I'm  your  partner  and  between  partners 
there  should  be  no  secrets." 

"Well,  we're  supposed  to  keep  it  a  secret,  just  to 
save  you  and  your  mother  from  worrying,  but  Pll  tell 
you  in  confidence  if  you  promise  not  to  tell  a  soul  I 
told  you." 


274  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"I  promise." 

"Well,  then,  that  scoundrel,  Okada,  sent  a  Jap  over 
from  La  Questa  valley  to  assassinate  Miguel  and  clear 
the  way  for  your  father  to  acquire  this  ranch  without 
further  legal  action  and  thus  enable  their  interrupted 
land  deal  to  be  consummated." 

"My  father  was  not  a  party  to  that — oh,  Mr.  Con- 
way,  surely  you  do  not  suspect  for  a  moment " 

"Tish!  Tush!  Of  course  not.  That's  why  Miguel 
wanted  it  given  out  that  his  horse  had  policed  him. 
Wanted  to  save  you  the  resultant  embarrassment." 

"The  poor  dear!  And  this  wretch  from  La  Questa 
shot  him?" 

"Almost." 

"What  became  of  the  assassin?" 

Bill  Conway  pursed  his  tobacco-stained  lips  and 
whistled  a  few  bars  of  "Listen  to  the  Mocking  Bird." 
Subconsciously  the  words  of  the  song  came  to  Kay's 
mind. 

She's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 
In  the  valley, 

She's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 
And  the  mocking  bird  is  singing 
where  she  lies. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  want  to  discuss  that  boy  and  his 
future  movements,  Miss  Parker,"  he  sighed  presently. 
"I  might  compromise  a  third  party.  In  the  event  of  a 
show-down  I  do  not  wish  to  be  forced  under  oath  to  tell 
what  I  know — or  suspect.  However,  I  am  in  a  position 
to  assure  you  that  Oriental  activities  on  this  ranch 
have  absolutely  ceased.  Mr.  Okada  has  been  solemnly 
assured  that,  in  dealing  with  certain  white  men,  they 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  275 

will  insist  upon  an  eye  for  an  optic  and  a  tusk  for  a 
tooth ;  he  knows  that  if  he  starts  anything  further  he 
will  go  straight  to  that  undiscovered  country  where  the 
woodbine  twineth  and  the  whangdoodle  mourneth  for 
its  mate." 

"What  has  become  of  Okada?" 

"He  has  dragged  it  out  of  here — drifted  and  went 
hence — for  keeps." 

"Are  you  quite  sure?" 

"Cross  my  heart  and  hope  to  die."  With  an  un 
clean  thumb  Mr.  Conway  drew  a  large  X  on  the  geo 
metrical  center  of  his  ample  circumference.  "When 
you've  been  in  the  contracting  business  as  long  as  I 
have,  Miss  Parker,"  he  continued  sagely,  "you'll  learn 
never  to  leave  important  details  to  a  straw  boss.  At 
tend  to  'em  yourself — and  get  your  regular  ration  of 
sleep.  That's  my  motto." 

She  beamed  gratefully  upon  him.  "Need  any  money, 
Bill,  old  timer?"  she  flashed  at  him  suddenly,  with  de- 
aghtful  camaraderie. 

"There  should  be  no  secrets  between  partners.  I 
do." 

"Quantof" 

"Cinquenta  mille  pesos  oro,  senorita." 

"Help !" 

"Fifty  thousand  bucks,  iron  men,  simoleons,  smack 
ers,  dollars " 

She  reached  down  and  removed  a  fountain  pen  from 
his  upper  vest  pocket.  Then  she  drew  a  check  book 
and,  crooking  her  knee  over  Panchito's  neck  and  using 
that  knee  for  a  desk,  she  wrote  him  a  check  on  a  New 
York  bank  for  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

"See  here,"  Bill  Conwray  demandeds  as  she  handed 


276  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

him  the  check,  "how  much  of  a  roll  you  got,  young 
woman  ?" 

"About  two  hundred  thousand  in  cash  and  half  a 
million  in  Liberty  bonds.  When  I  was  about  five  years 
old  my  uncle  died  and  left  me  his  estate,  worth  about 
a  hundred  thousand.  It  has  grown  under  my  father's 
management.  He  invested  heavily  in  Steel  Common,  at 
the  outbreak  of  the  war,  and  sold  at  the  top  of  the 
market  just  before  the  armistice  was  signed." 

"Well,"  Conway  sighed,  "there  is  a  little  justice  in 
the  world,  after  all.  Here  at  last,  is  one  instance 
where  the  right  person  to  handle  money  gets  her  hands* 
on  a  sizable  wad  of  it.  But  what  I  want  to  know,  my 
dear  young  lady,  is  this :  Why  purchase  philanthropy 
in  fifty  thousand  dollar  installments?  If  you  want  to 
set  that  boy's  mind  at  ease,  loan  him  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  to  take  up  the  mortgage  your  father 
holds  on  his  ranch ;  then  take  a  new  mortgage  in  your 
own  name  to  secure  the  loan.  If  you're  bound  to  save 
him  in  the  long  run,  why  keep  the  poor  devil  in  sus 
pense?" 

She  made  a  little  moue  of  distaste.  "I  loathe  busi^ 
ness.  The  loaning  of  money  on  security — the  taking 
advantage  of  another's  distress.  Mr.  Bill,  it  never 
made  a  hit  with  me.  I'm  doing  this  merely  because  I 
realize  that  my  father's  course,  while  strictly  legal,  is 
not  kind.  I  refuse  to  permit  him  to  do  that  sort  of 
thing  to  a  Medal  of  Honor  man."  He  noticed  a  pretty 
flush  mount  to  her  lovely  cheeks.  "It  isn't  sporty, 
Mr.  Bill  Conway.  However,  it  isn't  nice  to  tell  one's 
otherwise  lovable  father  that  he's  a  poor  sport  and  a 
Shylock,  is  it?  I  cannot  deliberately  pick  a  fight  with 
my  father  by  interfering  in  his  business  affairs,  can  I? 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  277 

Also,  it  seems  to  me  that  Don  Mike  Farrel's  pride  is  too 
high  to  permit  of  his  acceptance  of  a  woman's  pity.  I 
do  not  wish  him  to  be  under  obligation  to  me.  He 
might  misconstrue  my  motive — oh,  you  understand, 
don't  you?  I'm  sure  I'm  in  an  extremely  delicate  posi 
tion." 

He  nodded  sagely.  "Nevertheless,"  he  pursued,  "he 
will  be  under  obligation  to  you." 

"He  will  never  know  it.  I  depend  upon  you  to  keep 
my  secret.  He  will 'think  himself  under  obligation  to 
you — and  you're  such  an  old  and  dear  friend.  Men 
accept  obligations  from  each  other  and  think  nothing 
of  it.  By  the  way,  I  hold  you  responsible  for  the  re 
turn  of  that  fifty  thousand  dollars,  not  Don  Mike 
Farrel.  You  are  underwriting  his  battle  with  my 
father,  are  you  not?" 

"Yes,  I  am,"  he  retorted  briskly,  "and  I've  got  more 
conceit  than  a  barber's  cat  for  daring  to  do  it.  Wait 
a  minute  and  I'll  give  you  my  promissory  note.  I'm 
paying  seven  per  cent  for  bank  accommodations  lately. 
That  rate  of  interest  suit  you?" 

She  nodded  and  followed  him  to  his  office,  where  he 
laboriously  wrote  and  signed  a  promissory  note  in  her 
favor.  Pablo,  remaining  politely  out  of  sound  of  their 
conversation,  wondered  vaguely  what  they  were  up  to. 

"Don  Mike  has  told  us  something  of  the  indolent, 
easy-going  natures  of  his  people,"  Kay  continued,  as 
she  tucked  the  note  in  her  coat  pocket.  "I  have  won 
dered  if,  should  he  succeed  in  saving  his  ranch  without 
too  great  an  expenditure  of  effort,  he  would  continue 
to  cast  off  the  spell  of  'the  splendid,  idle  forties*  and 
take  his  place  in  a  world  of  alert  creators  and  produc 
ers.  Do  you  not  think,  Mr.  Bill,  that  he  will  be  the 


278  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

gainer  through  my  policy  of  keeping  him  in  ignorance 
of  my  part  in  the  re-financing  of  his  affairs — if  he  dare 
not  be  certain  of  victory  up  to  the  last  moment?  Of 
course  it  would  be  perfectly  splendid  if  he  could  some 
how  manage  to  work  out  his  own  salvation,  but  of 
course,  if  he  is  unable  to  do  that  his  friends  must  do 
it  for  him.  I  think  it  would  be  perfectly  disgraceful 
to  permit  a  Medal  of  Honor  man  to  be  ruined,  don't 
you,  Mr.  Bill?" 

"Say,  how  long  have  you  known  this  fellow  Miguel?" 

"Seventy-two  hours,  more  or  less." 

He  considered.  "Your  father's  nerve  has  been  pretty 
badly  shaken  by  the  Jap's  attempt  to  kill  Miguel.  He 
feels  about  that  pretty  much  as  a  dog  does  when  he's 
caught  sucking  eggs.  Why  not  work  on  your  father 
now  while  he's  in  an  anti-Jap  mood?  You  might  catch 
him  on  the  rebound,  so  to  speak.  Take  him  over  to  La 
Questa  valley  some  day  this  week  and  show  him  a  little 
Japan;  show  him  what  the  San  Gregorio  will  look  like 
within  five  years  if  he  persists.  Gosh,  woman,  you 
have  some  influence  with  him  haven't  you?" 

"Very  little  in  business  affairs,  I  fear." 

"Well,  you  work  on  him,  anyhow,  and  maybe  he'll 
get  religion  and  renew  Miguel's  mortgage.  Argue  that 
point  about  giving  a  Medal  of  Honor  man  another 
chance." 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "It  would  be  useless,"  she 
assured  him.  "He  has  a  curious  business  code  and 
will  not  abandon  it.  He  will  only  quote  some  platitude 
about  mixing  sentiment  and  business." 

"Then  I  suppose  the  battle  will  have  to  go  the  full 
twenty  rounds.  Well,  Miss  Parker,  we're  willing. 
We've  already  drawn  first  blood  and  with  your  secret 


THE    GIRL KAY    PARKER 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  279 

help  we  ought  to  about  chew  the  tail  off  your  old  man." 

"Cheerio."  She  held  out  her  dainty  little  gloved 
hand  to  him.  "See  me  when  you  need  more  money,  Mr. 
Bill.  And  remember!  If  you  tell  on  me  I'll  never, 
never  forgive  you." 

He  bent  over  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  His  caress  was 
partly  reverence,  partly  a  habit  of  courtliness  surviv 
ing  from  a  day  that  is  done  in  California,  for  under 
that  shabby  old  tweed  suit  there  beat  the  gallant  heart 
of  a  true  cavalier. 

When  Miss  Parker  had  ridden  away  with  Pablo  at  her 
heels,  Bill  Conway  unburdened  himself  of  a  slightly  ri 
bald  little  chanson  entitled:  "What  Makes  the  Wild 
Cat  Wild?"  In  the  constant  repetition  of  this  query 
it  appeared  that  the  old  Californian  sought  the  answer 
to  a  riddle  not  even  remotely  connected  with  the  mys 
tifying  savagery  of  non-domestic  felines. 

Suddenly  he  slapped  his  thigh.  "Got  it,"  he  in 
formed  the  payroll  he  had  been  trying  to  add  for  half 
an  hour.  "Got  it !  She  does  love  him.  Her  explana 
tion  of  her  action  is  good  but  not  good  enough  for  me. 
Medal  of  Honor  man !  Rats.  She  could  loan  him  the 
money  to  pay  her  father,  on  condition  that  her  father 
should  never  know  the  source  of  the  aid,  but  if  they 
reduced  their  association  to  a  business  basis  he  would 
have  to  decide  between  the  ranch  and  her.  She  knows 
how  he  loves  this  seat  of  his  ancestors — she  fears  for 
the  decision.  And  if  he  decided  for  the  ranch  there 
would  be  no  reasonable  excuse  for  the  Parker  family 
to  stick  around,  would  there  ?  There  would  not.  So  he 
is  not  to  be  lost  sight  of  for  a  year.  Yes,  of  course 
that's  it.  Methinks  the  lady  did  protest  too  much. 
God  bless  her.  I  wonder  what  he  thinks  of  her.  One 


280  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

can  never  tell.  It  might  be  just  her  luck  to  fail  to 
make  a  hit  with  him.  Oh,  Lord,  if  that  happened  Fd 
shoot  him.  I  would  for  a  fact.  Guess  I'll  drop  in  at 
the  ranch  some  day  next  week  and  pump  the  young 
idiot.  .  .  .  No,  I'll  not.  My  business  is  building  dams 
and  bridges  and  concrete  highways  .  .  .  well,  I  might 
take  a  chance  and  sound  him  out  .  .  .  still,  what 
thanks  would  I  get  ...  no,  I'll  be  shot  if  I  will  .  .  . 
oh,  to  the  devil  with  thanks.  If  he  don't  like  it  he  can 
lump  it.  .  .  . 

What  makes  the  wild  cat  wild,  boys, 
Oh,  what  makes  the  wild  cat  wild?" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IT  was  fully  two  weeks  before  Miguel  returned  to  the 
ranch  from  the  little  hospital  at  El  Toro.  During 
that  period  the  willows  had  already  started  to  sprout 
on  the  last  abiding  place  of  Kano  Ugichi,  the  pain  had 
left  the  Farrel  head  and  the  Farrel  attorney  ha'd  had 
Andre  Loustalot  up  in  the  Superior  Court,  where  he 
had  won  a  drawn  verdict.  The  cash  in  bank  was  proved 
to  have  been  deposited  there  by  Loustalot  personally; 
it  had  been  subject  to  his  personal  check  and  was  ac 
cordingly  adjudged  to  be  his  personal  property  and 
ordered  turned  over  to  Miguel  Farrel  in  partial  liqui 
dation  of  the  ancient  judgment  which  Farrel  held 
against  the  Basque.  A  preponderance  of  testimony, 
however  (Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  swore  it  was  all  per 
jured  and  paid  for)  indicated  that  but  one  quarter  of 
the  sheep  found  on  the  Rancho  Palomar  belonged  to 
Loustalot,  the  remainder  being  owned  by  his  foreman 
and  employees.  To  Farrel,  therefore,  these  sheep  were 
awarded,  and  in  some  occult  manner  Don  Nicolas  San 
doval  selected  them  from  the  flock;  then,  acting  under 
instructions  from  Farrel,  he  sold  the  sheep  back  to 
Loustalot  at  something  like  a  dollar  a  head  under  the 
market  value  and  leased  to  the  amazed  Basque  for  one 
year  the  grazing  privilege  on  the  Rancho  Palomar.  In 
return  for  the  signing  of  this  lease  and  the  payment  of 

281 


282  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

the  lease  money  in  advance,  Farrel  executed  to  Lousta- 
lot  a  satisfaction  in  full  of  the  unpaid  portion  of  the 
judgment.  "For,"  as  the  sheriff  remarked  to  Farrel, 
"while  you  hold  the  balance  of  that  judgment  over  this 
fellow's  head  your  own  head  is  in  danger.  It  is  best 
to  conciliate  him,  for  you  will  never  again  have  an  op 
portunity  to  levy  against  his  assets." 

"I  think  you're  right,  Don  Nicolas,"  Farrell  agreed. 
"I  can  never  feel  wholly  safe  until  I  strike  a  truce  with 
that  man.  Tell  him  I'll  give  him  back  his  eight  thou 
sand  dollar  automobile  if  he  will  agree  on  his  own  be 
half  and  that  of  his  employees,  agents  and  friends,  not 
to  bushwhack  me  or  any  person  connected  with  me.5* 

"I  have  already  made  him  a  tentative  offer  to  that 
effect,  my  boy,  and,  now  that  the  first  flush  of  his  rage 
is  over,  he  is  a  coyote  lacking  the  courage  to  kill.  He 
will  agree  to  your  proposal,  and  I  shall  take  occasion, 
to  warn  him  that  if  he  should  ever  break  his  word  while 
I  am  living,  I  shall  consider,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  I 
am  the  mediator  in  this  matter,  that  he  has  broken  faith 
with  me,  and  I  shall  act  accordingly." 

The  arrangement  with  Loustalot  was  therefore  made, 
and  immediately  upon  his  return  to  the  ranch  Farrel, 
knowing  that  the  sheep  would  spoil  his  range  for  the 
few  hundred  head  of  cattle  that  still  remained  of  the 
thousands  that  once  had  roamed  El  Palomar,  rounded 
up  these  cattle  and  sold  them.  And  it  was  in  the  per 
formance  of  this  duty  that  he  discovered  during  the 
roundup,  on  the  trail  leading  from  the  hacienda  to  Agua 
Caliente  basin,  a  rectangular  piece  of  paper.  It  lay, 
somewhat  weather-stained,  face  up  beside  the  trail,  and 
because  it  resembled  a  check,  he  leaned  easily  from  his 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  £83 

horse  and  picked  it  up.  To  his  amazement  he  discovered 
it  to  be  a  promissory  note,  in  the  sum  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  in  favor  of  Kay  Parker  and  signed  by  William 
D.  Conway. 

Pablo  was  beating1  the  thickets  in  the  river  bottom, 
searching  out  some  spring*  calves  he  knew  were  lurking 
there,  when  his  master  reined  up  beside  him. 

"Pablo,"  he  demanded,  "has  Senor  Conway  been  to 
the  ranch  during  my  absence  ?" 

"No,  Don  Miguel,  he  has  not." 

"Has  Senorita  Parker  ridden  Panchito  over  to 
Senor  Conway's  camp  at  Agua  Caliente  basin  ?" 

"Yes,  Don  Miguel.  I  rode  behind  her,  in  case  of 
accident." 

"What  day  was  that?" 

Pablo  considered.  "The  day  after  you  were  shot, 
Don  Miguel." 

"Did  you  see  Senorita  Parker  give  Senor  Conway  a 
writing?" 

"I  did,  truly.  She  wrote  from  a  small  leathern  book 
and  tore  out  the  page  whereon  she  wrote.  In  return 
Senor  Conway  made  a  writing  and  this  he  gave  to 
Senorita  Parker  who  accepted  it. 

"Thank  you,  Pablo.  That  is  all  I  desired  to  know." 
And  he  was  away  again,  swinging  his  lariat  and  whoop 
ing  joyously  at  the  cattle.  Pablo  watched  narrowly. 

"Now  whatever  this  mystery  may  be,"  he  soliloquized, 
"the  news  I  gave  Don  Miguel  has  certainly  not  dis 
pleased  him.  Ah,  he  is  a  sharp  one,  that  boy.  He 
learns  everything  and  without  effort,  yet  for  all  he 
knows  he  calks  but  little.  Can  it  be  that  he  has  the  gift 
of  second  sight?  I  wonder!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

KAY  PARKER  was  seated  on  the  bench  under  the 
catalpa  tree  when  Miguel  Farrel  rode  up  the 
palm-lined  avenue  to  the  hacienda,  that  night;  his 
face,  as  he  dismounted  before  her,  conveyed  instantly 
to  the  girl  the  impression  that  he  was  in  a  more  cheer 
ful  and  contented  mood  than  she  had  observed  since 
that  day  she  had  first  met  him  in  uniform. 

She  smiled  a  welcome.  He  swept  off  his  hat  and 
favored  her  with  a  bow  which  appeared  to  Kay  to 
be  slightly  more  ceremonious  than  usual. 

"Your  horse  is  tired,"  she  remarked.     "Are  you?" 

"  'Something1  accomplished,  something  done,  has 
earned  a  night's  repose,' '  he  quoted  cheerfully. 
"Rather  a  hard  task  to  comb  this  ranch  for  a  few 
hundred  head  of  cattle  when  the  number  of  one's  riders 
is  limited,  but  we  have  gotten  the  herd  corraled  at  the 
old  race-track."  He  unbuckled  his  old  leathern  chaps, 
and  stepped  out  of  them,  threw  them  across  the  sad 
dle  and  with  a  slap  sent  his  horse  away  to  the  barn. 

"You're  feeling  quite  yourself  again?"  she  hazarded 
hopefully. 

"My  foolish  head  doesn't  bother  me,"  he  replied 
smilingly,  "but  my  equally  foolish  heart — "  he  heaved 
a  gusty  Castilian  sigh  and  tried  to  appear  forlorn. 
"Filled  with  mixed  metaphors,"  he  added.  "May  I 
sit  here  with  you?" 

She  made  room  for  him  beside  her  on  the  bench. 
284 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  285 

He  seated  himself,  leaned  back  against  the  bole  of  the 
catalpa  tree  and  stretched  his  legs,  cramped  from  a 
long  day  in  the  saddle.  The  indolent  gaze  of  his  black 
eyes  roved  over  her  approvingly  before  shifting  to 
the  shadowy  beauty  of  the  valley  and  the  orange-hued 
sky  beyond,  and  a  silence  fell  between  them. 

"I  was  thinking  to-day,"  the  girl  said  presently, 
"that  you've  been  so  busy  since  your  return  you  haven't 
had  time  to  call  on  any  of  your  old  friends." 

"That  is  true,  Miss  Parker." 

"You  have  called  me  Kay,"  she  reminded  him. 
"Wherefore  this  sudden  formality,  Don  Mike?" 

"My  name  is  Miguel.  You're  right,  Kay.  For 
tunately,  all  of  my  friends  called  on  me  when  I  was 
in  the  hospital,  and  at  that  time  I  took  pains  to  re 
mind  them  that  my  social  activities  would  be  limited 
for  at  least  a  year." 

"Two  of  your  friends  called  on  mother  and  me  to 
day,  Miguel." 

"Anita  Sepulvida  and  her  mother?" 

"Yes.      She's   adorable." 

"They  visited  me  in  hospital.  Very  old  friends — 
very  dear  friends.  I  asked  them  to  call  on  you  and 
your  mother.  I  wanted  you  to  know  Anita." 

"She's  the  most  beautiful  and  charming  girl  I  have 
ever  met." 

"She  is  beautiful  and  charming.  Her  family,  like 
mine,  had  become  more  or  less  decayed  about  the  time 
I  enlisted,  but  fortunately  her  mother  had  a  quarter 
section  of  land  down  in  Ventura  County  and  when  a 
wild-cat  oil  operator  on  adjacent  land  brought  in  a 
splendid  well,  Senora  Sepulvida  was  enabled  to  dis 
pose  of  her  land  at  a  thousand  dollars  an  acre  and 


286  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

a  royalty  of  one-eighth  on  all  of  the  oil  produced.  The 
first  well  drilled  was  a  success  and  in  a  few  years  the 
Sepulvida  family  will  be  far  wealthier  than  it  ever  was. 
Meanwhile  their  ranch  here  has  been  saved  from  loss  by 
foreclosure.  Old  Don  Juan,  Anita's  father,  is  dead." 

"Anita  is  the  only  child,  is  she  not?1' 

He  nodded.  "Ma  Sepulvida  is  a  lady  of  the  old 
school,"  he  continued.  "Very  dignified,  very  proud  of 
her  distinguished  descent " 

"And  very  fond  of  you,"  Kay  interrupted. 

"Always  was,  Kay.  She's  an  old  peach.  Came  to 
the  hospital  and  cried  over  me  and  wanted  to  loan 
me  enough  money  to  lift  the  mortgage  on  my  ranch." 

"Then — then — your  problem  is — solved,"  Kay  found 
difficulty  in  voicing  the  sentence. 

He  nodded.  She  turned  her  face  away  that  he  might 
not  see  the  pallor  that  overspread  it.  "It  is  a  very  great 
comfort  to  me,"  he  resumed  presently,  "to  realize  that 
the  world  is  not  altogether  barren  of  love  and  kindness." 

"It  must  be,"  she  murmured,  her  face  still  averted. 

"It  was  the  dearest  wish  of  my  poor  father  and  of 
Anita's  that  the  ancient  friendship  between  the  families 
should  be  cemented  by  a  marriage  between  Anita  and 
me.  For  me  Sefiora  Sepulvida  would  be  a  marvelous 
mother-in-law,  because  she's  my  kind  of  people  and 
we  understand  each  other.  Really,  I  feel  tremendously 
complimented  because,  even  before  the  oil  strike  saved 
the  family  from  financial  ruin,  Anita  did  not  lack 
opportunities  for  many  a  more  brilliant  match." 

"She's — dazzling,"  Kay  murmured  drearily.  "What 
a  brilliant  wife  she  will  be  for  you!" 

"Anita  is  far  too  fine  a  woman  for  such  a  sacrifice. 
I've  always  entertained  a  very  great  affection  for  her 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  287 

and  she  for  me.  There's  only  one  small  bug  in  our 
amber." 

"And  that " 

"We  aren't  the  least  bit  in  love  with  each  other. 
We're  children  of  a  later  day  and  we  object  to  the 
old-fashioned  method  of  a  marriage  arranged  by  papa 
and  mama.  I  know  there  must  be  something  radically 
wrong  with  me;  otherwise  I  never  could  resist  Anita." 

"But  you  are  going  to  marry  her,  are  you  not?" 

"I  am  not.  She  wouldn't  marry  me  on  a  bet.  And 
of  course  I  didn't  accept  her  dear  old  mother's  offer 
of  financial  aid.  Couldn't,  under  the  circumstances,  and 
besides,  it  would  not  be  kind  of  me  to  transfer  my  bur 
den  to  them.  I  much  prefer  to  paddle  my  own  canoe." 

He  noticed  a  rush  of  color  to  the  face  as  she  turned 
abruptly  toward  him  now.  "What  a  heritage  of  pride 
you  have,  Miguel.  But  are  you  quite  certain  Anita 
does  not  love  you?  You  should  have  heard  all  the 
nice  things  she  said  about  you  to-day." 

"She  ought  to  say  nice  things  about  me,"  he  replied 
casually.  "When  she  was  quite  a  little  girl  she  was 
given  to  understand  that  her  ultimate  mission  in  life 
was  to  marry  me.  Of  course  I  always  realized  that 
it  would  not  be  a  compliment  to  Anita  to  indicate  that 
I  was  not  head  over  heels  in  love  with  her;  I  merely 
pretended  I  was  too  bashful  to  mention  it.  Finally 
one  day  Anita  suggested,  as  a  favor  to  her  and  for 
the  sake  of  my  own  self-respect,  that  I  abandon  the 
pose;  with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  begged  me  to  be  a 
gallant  rebel  and  save  her  from  the  loving  solicitude 
of  her  parents  to  see  her  settled  in  life.  At  that 
moment  I  almost  loved  her,  particularly  when,  having 
assured  her  of  my  entire  willingness  and  ability  to  spoil 


288  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

everything,  she  kissed  me  rapturously  on  both  cheeks 
and  confided  to  me  that  she  was  secretly  engaged  to 
an  engineer  chap  who  was  gophering  for  potash  in 
Death  Valley.  The  war  interrupted  his  gophering, 
but  Anita  informs  me  that  he  found  the  potash,  and 
now  he  can  be  a  sport  and  bet  his  potash  against 
Senora  Sepulvida's  crude  oil.  Fortunately,  my  alleged 
death  gave  Anita  an  opportunity  to  advance  his  claims, 
and  he  was  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  acceptable  until 
my  unexpected  return  rather  greased  the  skids  for 
him.  Anita's  mother  is  trying  to  give  the  poor  devil  the 
double-cross  now,  but  I  told  Anita  she  needn't  worry." 

Kay's  eyes  danced  with  merriment — and  relief. 
"But,"  she  persisted,  "you  told  me  your  problem  was 
settled?  And  it  isn't." 

"It  is.  I'm  going  to  sell  about  eighteen  thousand 
dollars  worth  of  cattle  off  this  ranch,  and  I've  leased 
the  valley  grazing  privilege  for  one  year  for  ten  thou 
sand  dollars.  My  raid  on  Loustalot  netted  me  sixty- 
seven  thousand  dollars,  so  that  my  total  bankroll  is 
now  about  ninety-five  thousand  dollars.  At  first  I 
thought  I'd  let  Bill  Conway  have  most  of  my  fortune 
to  help  him  complete  that  dam,  but  I  have  now  de 
cided  to  stop  work  on  the  dam  and  use  all  of  my  en 
ergy  and  my  fortune  to  put  through  such  other  deals 
as  may  occur  to  me.  If  I  am  lucky  I  shall  emerge 
with  sufficient  funds  to  save  the  ranch.  If  I  am  un 
lucky,  I  shall  lose  the  ranch.  Therefore,  the  issue  is 
decided.  'God's  in  his  Heaven;  all's  right  with  the 
world.'  What  have  you  been  doing  all  day?" 

"Painting  and  sketching.  I'll  never  be  a  worth 
while  artist,  but  I  like  to  paint  things  for  myself.  I've 
been  trying  to  depict  on  canvas  the  San  Gregorio  in 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  289 

her  new  spring  gown,  as  you  phrase  it.  The  arrival 
of  the  Sepulvida  family  interrupted  me,  and  I've  been 
sitting  here  since  they  departed.  We  had  tea." 

"Getting  a  trifle  bored  with  the  country,  Kay?  I 
fancy  you  find  it  lonely  out  here." 

"It  was  a  trifle  quiet  while  you  were  in  hospital.  Now 
that  you're  back  I  suppose  we  can  ride  occasionally 
and  visit  some  of  the  places  of  local  interest." 

"By  all  means.  As  soon  as  I  get  rid  of  that  little 
bunch  of  cattle  I'm  going  to  give  a  barbecue  and  festi 
val  to  the  countryside  in  honor  of  my  guests.  We'll 
eat  a  half  dozen  fat  two-year-old  steers  and  about  a 
thousand  loaves  of  bread  and  a  couple  of  barrels  of 
claret  and  a  huge  mess  of  chilli  sauce.  When  I  an 
nounce  in  the  El  Toro  Sentinel  that  I'm  going  to  give  a 
•fiesta  and  that  everybody  is  welcome,  all  my  friends 
and  their  friends  and  relatives  will  come  and  I'll  be 
spared  the  trouble  of  visiting  them  individually.  Don 
Nicolas  Sandoval  remarked  when  he  collected  that 
Loustalot  judgment  for  me  that  he  supposed  I'd  do 
the  decent  thing,  now  that  I  could  afford  it.  Mother 
Sepulvida  suggested  it  and  Anita  seconded  the  motion. 
It  will  probably  be  the  last  event  of  its  kind  on  such  a 
scale  ever  given  in  California,  and  when  it  is  finished 
it  will  have  marked  my  transition  from  an  indolent 
ranchero  to  some  sort  of  commercial  go-getter." 

"I  see.     Little  Mike,  the  Hustler." 

He  nodded,  rose  and  stood  before  her,  smiling  down 
at  her  with  an  inscrutable  little  smile.  "Will  you 
motor  me  in  to  El  Toro  to-morrow  morning?"  he 
pleaded.  "I  must  go  there  to  arrange  for  cattle  cars." 

"Of  course." 

"Thank  you,  Kay.     Now,  if  I  have  your  permission 


290  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

to  withdraw,  I  think  I  shall  make  myself  presentable  for 
dinner." 

He  hesitated  a  moment  before  withdrawing,  how 
ever,  meanwhile  gazing  down  on  her  with  a  gaze  so  in 
tent  that  the  girl  flushed  a  little.  Suddenly  his  hand 
darted  out  and  foe  had  her  adorable  little  chin  clasped 
between  his  brown  thumb  and  forefinger,  shaking  it  with 
little  shakes  of  mock  ferocity.  He  seemed  about  to 
deliver  some  important  announcement — impassioned, 
even,  but  to  her  huge  disgust  he  smothered  the  impulse, 
jerked  his  hand  away  as  if  he  had  scorched  his  fingers, 
and  blushed  guiltily.  "Oh,  I'm  a  sky-blue  idiot,'*  he 
half  growled  and  left  her  abruptly. 

A  snort — to  a  hunter  it  would  have  been  vaguely 
reminiscent  of  that  of  an  old  buck  deer  suddenly  dis 
turbed  in  a  thicket — caused  her  to  look  up.  At  the 
corner  of  the  wall  Pablo  Artelan  stood,  staring  at  her 
with  alert  interest;  his  posture  was  one  of  a  man 
suddenly  galvanized  into  immobility.  Kay  blushed, 
but  instantly  decided  to  appear  nonchalant. 

"Good  evening,  Pablo,"  she  greeted  the  majordomo. 
"How  do  you  feel  after  your  long,  hard  day  on  the 
range  ?" 

"Gracias,  mees.  Myself,  I  feel  pretty  good.  When 
my  boss  hees  happy — well — Pablo  Artelan  hees  happy 
just  the  same." 

The  girl  noted  his  emphasis.  "That's  very  nice  of 
you,  Pablo,  I'm  sure.  Have  you  any  idea,"  she  con 
tinued  with  bland  innocence,  "why  Don  Miguel  is  so 
happy  this  evening?" 

Pablo  leaned  against  the  adobe  wall,  thoughtfully 
drew  forth  tobacco  bag  and  brown  cigarette  paper  and, 
while  shaking  his  head  and  appearing  to  ponder  Kay's 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  291 

question,  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it.  "We-1-1, 
senorita/'  he  began  presently,  "I  theenk  first  mebbeso 
eet  ees  because  Don  Miguel  find  heem  one  leetle  piece 
paper  on  the  trail.  I  am  see  him  peeck  those  paper 
up  and  look  at  heem  for  long  time  before  he  ride  to 
me  and  ask  me  many  question  about  the  senorita  and 
Senor  Beel  Conway  those  day  we  ride  to  Agua  Caliente. 
He  say  to  me:  'Pablo,  you  see  Senor  Beel  Conway  give 
to  the  senorita  a  writing?'  'Si,  senor.9  'You  see 
Senorita  Parker  give  to  Senor  Beel  Conway  a  writing?* 
'Si,  senor.9  Then  Don  Miguel  hee's  don'  say  some- 
theeng  more,  but  just  shake  hees  cabeza  like  thees,"  and 
Pablo  gave  an  imitation  of  a  muchly  puzzled  man  wag 
ging  his  head  to  stimulate  a  flow  of  ideas. 

A  faintness  seized  the  girl.  "Didn't  he  say — any 
thing?"  she  demanded  sharply. 

"Oh,  well,  yes,  he  say  sometheeng.  He  say:  'Well, 
I'bedam !'  Then  that  leetle  smile  he  don'  have  for  long 
time  come  back  to  Don  Miguel's  face  and  hee's  happy 
like  one  baby.  I  don'  un'erstand  those  boy  ontil  I  see 
thees  business" — Pablo  wiggled  his  tobacco-stained 
thumb  and  forefinger — "then  I  know  sometheeng!  For 
long  time  those  boy  hee's  pretty  parteecular.  Even 
those  so  beautiful  senorita,  'Nita  Sepulvida,  she  don* 
rope  those  boy  like  you  rope  it,  senorita"  And  with 
the  license  of  an  old  and  trusted  servant,  the  sage  of 
Palomar  favored  her  with  a  knowing  wink. 

"He  knows — he  knows!"  the  girl  thought.  "What 
must  he  think  of  me !  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear !  if  he  men 
tions  the  subject  to  me  I  shall  die."  Tears  of  mortifi 
cation  were  in  her  eyes  as  she  turned  angrily  upon  the 
amazed  Pablo.  "You — you — old  sky-blue  idiot!"  she 
charged  and  fled  to  her  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVIH 

TRAY'S  first  coherent  thought  was  to  claim  the 
•••^  privilege  of  her  sex — a  headache — and  refrain 
from  joining  Don  Mike  and  her  parents  at  dinner. 
Upon  consideration,  however,  she  decided  that  since 
she  would  have  to  face  the  issue  sooner  or  later,  she 
might  as  well  be  brave  and  not  try  to  evade  it.  For 
she  knew  now  the  fate  of  the  promissory  note  Bill  Con- 
way  had  given  her  and  which  she  had  thrust  into  the 
pocket  of  her  riding  coat.  It  had  worked  out  of  her 
pocket  and  dropped  beside  the  trail  to  Agua  Caliente 
Basin,  and  fate  had  ordained  that  it  should  be  found 
by  the  one  person  in  the  world  not  entitled  to  that  privi 
lege.  Kay  would  have  given  fifty  thousand  dollars 
for  some  miraculous  philter  which,  administered  sur 
reptitiously  to  Miguel  Farrel,  would  cause  him  to  for 
get  what  the  girl  now  realized  he  knew  of  her  secret 
negotiations  with  Bill  Conway  for  the  salvation  of 
the  ranch.  Nevertheless,  despite  her  overwhelming  em 
barrassment  and  distress,  the  question  occurred  to  her 
again  and  again:  What  would  Don  Miguel  Farrel  do 
about  it?  She  hadn't  the  slightest  doubt  but  that 
his  tremendous  pride  would  lead  him  to  reject  her  aid 
and  comfort,  but  how  was  he  to  accomplish  this  delicate 
procedure?  The  situation  was  fraught  with  as  much 
awkwardness  and  embarrassment  for  him  as  for  her. 

She  was  late  in  joining  the  others  at  table.     To  her 
great  relief,  after  rising  politely  at  her  entrance  and 

292 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  293 

favoring  her  with  an  impersonal  smile,  Farrel  sat  down 
and  continued  to  discuss  with  John  Parker  and  his 
wife  the  great  natural  resources  of  Siberia  and  the 
designs  of  the  Japanese  empire  upon  that  territory. 
About  the  time  the  black  coffee  made  its  appearance, 
Kay's  harassed  soul  had  found  sanctuary  in  the  dis 
cussion  of  a  topic  which  she  knew  would  be  of  interest 
— one  in  which  she  felt  she  could  join  exuberantly. 

"Do  tell  father  and  mother  of  your  plans  for  a  fiesta, 
Miguel,"  she  pleaded  presently. 

"A  fiesta,  eh?"  Mrs.  Parker  was  instantly  inter 
ested.  "Miguel,  that  is,  indeed,  a  bright  thought.  I 
volunteer  as  a  patroness  here  and  now.  John,  you  can 
be  a  judge  of  the  course,  or  something.  Miguel,  what 
is  the  occasion  of  your  fiesta?19 

"At  a  period  in  the  world's  history,  Mrs.  Parker, 
when  butter  is  a  dollar  a  pound  and  blue-denim  over 
alls  sell  freely  for  three  dollars  a  pair,  I  think  we 
ought  to  do  something  to  dissipate  the  general  gloom. 
I  want  to  celebrate  my  return  to  civil  life,  and  my  more 
recent  return  from  the  grave.  Also,  I  would  just  as 
lief  indicate  to  the  county  at  large  that,  outside  of  busi 
ness  hours,  we  constitute  a  very  happy  little  family 
here;  so  if  you  all  please,  I  shall  announce  a  fiesta  in 
honor  of  the  Parker  family." 

"It  will  last  all  day  and  night  and  we  are  to  have 
a  Wild  West  show,"  Kay  added  eagerly. 

"Where  will  it  be  held,  Miguel?" 

"Down  at  our  old  abandoned  race-track,  about  a 
mile  from  here." 

Mrs.  Parker  nodded  approval.  "John,  you  old 
dud,"  she  decided,  "you  always  liked  horse-races  and 
athletics.  You're  stuck  for  some  prizes." 


294  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

Her  indulgent  husband  good-naturedly  agreed,  and 
at  Kay's  suggestion,  Carolina  brought  a  pencil  and  a 
large  writing-tablet,  whereupon  the  girl  constituted  her 
self  secretary  of  the  carnival  committee  and  wrote 
the  program,  as  arranged  by  Don  Mike  and  her  father. 
She  thrilled  when  Farrel  announced  a  race  of  six  fur 
longs  for  ladies'  saddle-horses,  to  be  ridden  by  their 
owners. 

"You  ought  to  win  that  with  Panchito,"  he  suggested 
to  Kay. 

Kay's  heart  beat  happily.  In  Farrel's  suggestion 
that  she  ride  Panchito  in  this  race  she  decided  that 
here  was  evidence  that  her  host  did  not  contemplate 
any  action  that  would  tend  to  render  the  ranch  un 
tenable  for  her  prior  to  the  fiesta;  indeed,  there  was 
nothing  in  his  speech  or  bearing  that  indicated  the 
slightest  mental  perturbation  now  that  he  had  dis 
covered  the  compact  existing  between  her  and  Bill  Con- 
way.  Perhaps  his  pride  was  not  so  high  as  she  had 
rated  it ;  what  if  her  action  had  been  secretly  pleasing 
to  him? 

Somehow,  Kay  found  this  latter  thought  disturbing 
and  distasteful.  It  was  long  past  midnight  before  she 
could  dismiss  the  enigma  from  her  thoughts  and  fall 
asleep. 

It  was  later  than  that,  however,  before  Don  Miguel 
Jose  Federico  Noriaga  Farrel  dismissed  her  from  his 
thoughts  and  succumbed  to  the  arms  of  Morpheus. 
For  quite  a  while  after  retiring  to  his  room  he  sat 
on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  rubbing  his  toes  with  one  hand 
and  holding  Bill  Conway's  promissory  note  before  him 
with  the  other. 

"That  girl  and  her  mother  are  my  secret  allies," 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  295 

he  soliloquized.  "Bless  their  dear  kind  hearts.  Kay  has 
confided  in  Conway  and  for  reasons  best  known  to 
himself  he  has  secretly  accepted  of  her  aid.  Now  I 
wonder,"  he  continued,  "what  the  devil  actuates  her 
to  double-cross  her  own  father  in  favor  of  a  stranger?'* 

He  tucked  the  note  back  in  his  pocket,  removed  a 
sock  and  rubbed  the  other  foot  thoughtfully.  "Well, 
whatever  happens,"  he  decided  eventually,  "I've  got  to 
keep  my  secret  to  myself,  while  at  the  same  time  ef 
fectually  preventing  this  young  lady  from  advancing 
Bill  Conway  any  further  funds  for  my  relief.  I  cannot 
afford  her  pity  or  her  charity;  I  can  accept  her 
sympathy,  but  not  her  aid.  Conway  cannot  have  so 
soon  spent  much  of  the  money  he  borrowed  from  her, 
and  if  I  insist  on  the  cessation  of  operations  in  the 
Basin  he'll  promptly  give  her  back  her  fifty  thousand 
dollars  in  order  to  save  the  interest  charges;  in  the 
meantime  I  shall  mail  Kay  the  note  in  a  plain  white 
envelope,  with  the  address  typewritten,  so  she  will 
never  know  where  it  came  from,  for  of  course  she'll 
have  to  hand  Bill  back  his  canceled  note  when  he 
pays  it." 

He  blew  out  the  light  and  retired,  not  to  sleep,  but 
to  revolve  plan  after  plan  for  the  salvation  of  the 
ranch.  To  float  a  new  loan  from  any  source  in  San 
Marcos  County  he  dismissed  for  the  hundredth  time 
as  a  proposition  too  nebulous  for  consideration.  His 
only  hope  of  a  bank  loan  lay  in  an  attempt  to  inter 
est  outside  bankers  to  a  point  where  they  would  con^ 
sent  to  have  the  property  appraised.  Perhaps  the 
letter  from  Parker  which  he  held  would  constitute  evi 
dence  to  cautious  capitalists  of  the  sufficiency  of  the 
security  for  the  loan.  It  was  for  that  purpose  that 


296  THE  PUIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

he  had  cunningly  inveigled  Parker  into  making  him 
that  offer  to  clear  out  and  leave  him  a  fair  field  and 
no  litigation.  However,  Don  Mike  knew  that  between 
bankers  there  exists  a  certain  mutual  dependence,  a 
certain  cohesiveness  that  makes  for  mutual  protection. 
If,  for  instance  (he  told  himself),  he  should  apply  to 
a  San  Francisco  bank  for  a  loan  on  the  ranch,  the 
bank,  prior  to  wasting  either  time  or  mental  energy 
on  his  application,  would  first  ascertain  from  sources 
other  than  him,  whether  it  was  remotely  worth  while 
considering  the  loan  up  to  a  point  of  sending  a  repre 
sentative  down  to  appraise  the  land.  Their  first  move, 
therefore,  would  be  to  write  their  correspondent  in 
El  Toro — John  Parker's  bank,  the  First  National — -. 
for  information  regarding  the  Farrel  family,  the  ranch 
and  the  history  of  the  mortgage.  Don  Mike  was  not 
such  an  optimist  as  to  believe  that  the  report  of 
Parker's  bank  would  be  such  as  to  encourage  the  out 
side  bank  to  proceed  further  in  the  deal. 

He  was  also  aware  that  the  loan  would  not  be  at 
tractive  to  commercial  banks,  who  are  forced,  in  self- 
protection,  to  loan  their  money  on  liquid  assets.  He 
must  therefore  turn  to  the  savings-banks  and  trust 
companies.  But  here  again  he  faced  an  impasse.  Such 
institutions  loan  money  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
interest  on  it ;  the  last  thing  they  wish  to  do  is  to  be 
forced,  in  the  protection  of  the  loan,  to  foreclose  a 
mortgage.  Hence,  should  they  entertain  the  slightest 
doubt  of  his  inabilit}71  to  repay  the  mortgage;  should 
they  be  forced  to  consider  the  probability  of  foreclosure 
eventually,  he  knew  they  would  not  consider  the  loan. 
Don  Mike  was  bitterly  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  his 
tory  of  his  family  had  been  one  of  waste,  extravagance, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  297 

carelessness  and  inefficiency.  In  order  to  place  the 
ranch  on  a  paying  basis  and  take  up  John  Parker's 
mortgage,  therefore,  he  would  have  to  have  a  new  loan 
of  not  less  than  half  a  million  dollars,  and  at  six  per 
cent.,  the  lowest  rate  of  interest  he  could  hope  to 
obtain,  his  annual  interest  charge  would  be  thirty  thou 
sand  dollars.  Naturally  he  would  be  expected  to  repay 
the  loan  gradually — say  at  the  rate  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars  a  year.  By  running  ten  thousand  head  of 
cattle  on  the  Palomar  he  knew  he  could  meet  his  pay 
ments  of  interest  and  principal  without  lessening  his 
working  capital,  but  he  could  not  do  it  by  attempting 
to  raise  scrub  beef  cattle.  He  would  gradually  produce 
a  herd  of  pure-bred  Herefords,  but  in  the  meantime 
he  would  have  to  buy  "feeders,"  grow  them  out  on  the 
Palomar  range  and  sell  them  at  a  profit.  During  the 
present  high  price  of  beef  cattle,  he  dared  not  gamble 
on  borrowed  capital,  else  with  a  slump  in  prices  he 
might  be  destroyed.  It  would  be  a  year  or  two,  at 
least,  before  he  might  accept  that  risk;  indeed,  the 
knowledge  of  this  condition  had  induced  him  to  lease 
the  San  Grcgorio  for  one  year  to  the  Basque  sheep  man, 
Andre  Loustalot.  If,  in  the  interim,  he  should  succeed 
in  saving  the  ranch,  he  knew  that  a  rest  of  one  year 
would  enable  the  range  to  recover  from  the  damage 
inflicted  upon  it  by  the  sheep. 

In  his  desolation  there  came  to  him  presently  a  wave 
of  the  strctng  religious  faith  that  was  his  sole  unen 
cumbered  heritage.  Once  again  he  was  a  trustful  little 
boy.  He  slid  out  of  the  great  bed  of  his  ancestors  and 
knelt  on  the  old  rag  mat  beside  it ;  he  poured  out  an 
appeal  for  help  from  One  who,  he  had  been  told — 
who,  he  truly  believed — marked  the  sparrow's  fall. 


298  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Don  Mike  was  far  from  being  the  orthodox  person  one 
ordinarily  visualizes  in  a  Spanish-Irish  Catholic,  but  he 
was  deeply  religious,  his  religious  impulse  taking  quite 
naturally  a  much  more  practical  form  and  one  most 
pleasing  to  himself  and  his  neighbors,  in  that  it  impelled 
him  to  be  brave  and  kind  and  hopeful,  a  gentleman 
in  all  that  the  word  implies.  He  valued  far  more  than 
he  did  the  promise  of  a  mansion  in  the  skies  a  certain: 
tranquillity  of  spirit  which  comes  of  conscious  virtue. 

When  he  rose  from  his  knees  he  had  a  feeling  that 
God  had  not  lost  track  of  him  and  that,  despite  a  long 
list  of  debit  entries,  a  celestial  accountant  had,  at 
some  period  in  Don  Mike's  life,  posted  a  considerable 
sum  to  his  credit  in  the  Book  of  Things.  "That  credit 
may  just  balance  the  account,"  he  reflected,  "although 
it  is  quite  probable  I  am  still  working  in  the  red  ink. 
Well — I've  asked  Him  for  the  privilege  of  overdrawing 
my  account  ...  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see." 

At  daylight  he  awakened  suddenly  and  found  him 
self  quite  mysteriously  the  possessor  of  a  trend  of  rea 
soning  that  automatically  forced  him  to  sit  up  in  bed. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  mounted  on  Panchito,  he  was 
cantering  up  the  San  Gregorio,  and  just  as  the  cook 
at  Bill  Conway's  camp  at  Agua  Caliente  Basin  came 
to  the  door  of  the  mess  hall  and  yelled:  "Come,  an* 
git  it  or  I'll  throw  it  out,"  Panchito  slid  down  the 
gravel  cut-bank  into  camp. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Conway?"  he  demanded  of  the  cook. 

The  latter  jerked  a  greasy  thumb  toward  the  in 
terior  of  the  mess  hall,  so,  leaving  Panchito  "tied  to 
the  breeze,"  Don  Mike  dismounted  and  entered. 

"Hello  there,  young  feller,"  Bill  Conway  roared  at 
him. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR         _    299 

"Top  o'  the  morning  to  you,  old  dirt-digger,"  Parrel 
replied.  "Please  deal  me  a  hand  of  your  ham  and 
eggs,  sunny  side  up.  How  be  ye,  Willum?" 

"R'arin'  to  go,"  Conway  assured  him. 

"All  right.  Pack  up  and  go  to-day.  You're  through 
on  this  job." 

"Why?" 

"I've  changed  my  mind  about  fighting  Parker  on 
this  dam  deal — and  no  profanity  intended." 

"But— but " 

"But  me  no  buts,  even  if  you  are  the  goat.  You're 
through.  I  forbid  the  bans.  The  eggs,  man!  I'm 
famished.  The  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere  was  a 
mere  exercise  gallop,  because  he  started  shortly  after 
supper,  but  the  morning  ride  of  Mike  Farrel  has  been 
done  on  fresh  air." 

"You're  a  lunatic.  If  you  knew  what  I  know, 
Miguel " 

"Hush!  I  want  to  ascertain  what  you  know.  Bet 
you  a  dollar!"  He  slammed  a  dollar  down  on  the 
table  and  held  his  palm  over  it. 

Bill  Conway  produced  a  dollar  and  likewise  covered 
it,  "Very  well,  son,"  he  replied.  "I'll  see  your  dol 
lar.  What's  the  nature  of  the  bet?" 

"I'm  betting  a  dollar  you  didn't  draw  the  plans 
for  this  dam." 

Bill  Conway  flipped  his  dollar  over  to  his  guest. 

"I'm  betting  two  dollars!" 

Conway  took  two  silver  dollars  from  his  vest  pocket 
and  laid  them  on  the  table.  "And  the  bet  ?"  he  queried. 

"I'm  betting  two  dollars  the  plans  were  drawn  by  an 
engineer  in  Los  Angeles." 

"Some  days  I  can't  lay  up  a  cent,"  the  old  con- 


300  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ractor  complained,  and  parted  with  his  two  dollars. 

"I'm  betting  four  dollars!"  Farrel  challenged. 

"See  your  four  dollars,"  Conway  retorted  and  cov 
ered  the  bet. 

"I'm  betting  that  those  plans  were  drawn  by  the 
engineer  of  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation." 

"Death  loves  a  shining  mark,  Michael,  my  boy. 
Hand  over  that  four  dollars." 

Farrel  produced  a  five  dollar  bill.  "I'm  betting  five 
dollars,"  he  challenged  again. 

"Not  with  me,  son.  You're  too  good.  I  suppose 
your  next  bet  will  be  that  the  plans  were  drawn  by  the 
engineer  of  the  Central  California  Power  Company." 

"Were  they?" 

"Yes." 

"Got  a  set  of  the  plans  with  his  name  on  them?" 

"You  bet." 

"I  want  them." 

"They're  yours,  provided  you  tell  your  Uncle  Bill 
the  Big  Idea." 

Don  Mike  flipped  some  pepper  and  salt  on  his  eggs 
and  while  doing  so  proceeded  to  elucidate. 

"If  I  had  two  projects  in  mind — one  for  irrigation 
and  one  for  power,  I  would  not,  of  course,  unless  I 
happened  to  be  a  public  service  corporation  engaged 
in  producing  and  selling  electric  power,  consider  for 
a  moment  wasting  my  time  monkeying  with  the  hydro 
electric  buzz-saw.  Indeed,  I  would  have  to  sell  it,  for 
with  the  juice  developed  here  I  could  not  hope  to 
compete  in  a  limited  field  with  the  established  power 
companies.  I  would  proceed  to  negotiate  the  sale  of 
this  by-product  to  the  highest  bidder.  Bill,  do  you 
know  that  I've  seen  enough  flood  water  running  down 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  301 

the  San  Gregorio  every  winter  to  have  furnished,  if 
it  could  have  been  stored  in  Agua  Caliente  Basin,  suf 
ficient  water  to  irrigate  the  San  Gregorio  Valley  for 
five  years  ?" 

"I  know  it,  Miguel." 

"All  a  power  company  requires  is  the  assurance  that 
the  dam  you  are  building  will  impound  in  the  Agua  Cali 
ente  Basin  during  an  ordinarily  wet  winter,  sufficient 
run-off  water  to  insure  them  against  a  shortage  during 
the  summer.  After  the  water  has  passed  over  their 
wheels  they're  through  with  it  and  it  can  be  used  for 
irrigation,  can  it  not?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  although  you'd  have  to  have  a 
greater  volume  of  water  than  the  amount  coming 
through  the  power  company's  pen-stocks.  But  that's 
easily  arranged.  Two  ditches,  Miguel!" 

"If  the  engineer  of  the  Central  California  Power 
Company  had  not  examined  the  possibilities  here  and 
approved  of  them,  it  is  reasonble  to  suppose  that  he 
would  not  have  drawn  the  plans  and  Parker  would  not 
have  engaged  you  to  build  the  dam." 

"You're  on  the  target,  son.     Go  on." 

"Then  Parker  must  have  entered  into  an  agreement 
to  sell,  and  the  Central  California  Power  Company 
must  have  agreed  to  buy,  if  and  when  Parker  could  se 
cure  legal  title  to  the  Rancho  Palomar,  a  certain  num 
ber  of  miner's  inches  of  water  daily,  in  perpetuity, 
together  with  certain  lands  for  a  power  station  and  a 
perpetual  right  of  way  for  their  power  lines  over  the 
lands  of  this  ranch." 

"Well,  son,  that's  what  I  would  have  done  in  a 
similar  situation.  Nothing  to  be  made  by  letting  that 
hydro-electric  opportunity  lie  fallow.  No  profit  in 


302  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

•wasting  kilowatts,  Miguel.  We  haven't  got  a  third 
of  the  power  necessary  for  the  proper  development  of 
this  state." 

"In  the  absence  of  conclusive  proof  to  the  contrary, 
Bill,  I  am  convinced  that  John  Parker  did  enter  into 
such  a  contract.  Naturally,  until  he  should  secure 
the  title  to  the  ranch,  the  railroad  commission,  which 
regulates  all  public  service  corporations  in  this  state, 
would  not  grant  the  power  company  permission  to 
gamble  on  the  truth  of  an  official  report  that  I  had 
been  killed  in  Siberia." 

"Your  reasoning  is  sound.  Now  eat,  and  after  break 
fast  I'll  tell  you  things.  Your  visit  and  your  eager 
inquiries  have  started  a  train  of  thought  in  my  thick 
head." 

Don  Mike  obeyed,  and  while  he  devoted  himself  to 
his  breakfast,  old  Bill  Conway  amused  himself  rolling 
pellets  out  of  bread  and  flipping  them  at  a  knot-hole 
in  the  rough  wall  of  the  mess  hall. 

"You've  been  pretty  well  troubled,  haven't  you, 
son?"  he  remarked  paternally  when  Don  Mike,  having 
completed  his  meal,  sat  back  and  commenced  rolling 
a  cigarette. 

"Si.     Got  your  train  of  thought  ditched,  Bill?" 

"I  have.  Assuming  that  Parker  has  made  a  deal 
with  the  Central  California  Power  Company,  what  I 
want  to  know  is:  Why  did  he  do  it?" 

"I've  just  told  you  why  he  did  it." 

"You've  just  told  me  why  he  would  make  a  deal 
with  a  power  company,  but  you  haven't  explained  why 
he  should  make  a  deal  with  this  particular  power  com 
pany." 

"I  cannot  answer  that  question,  Bill." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  303 

"Nor  can  I.  But  there's  a  reason — perhaps  two 
reasons.  Territorially,  this  power  site  is  the  natural 
property  of  but  two  power  corporations — the  Central 
California  and  the  South  Coast.  The  South  Coast  is 
the  second  largest  corporation  of  its  kind  in  the  state; 
the  Central  California  is  the  fifth.  Why  go  gunning 
for  a  dickey  bird  when  you  can  tie  up  to  an  eagle?" 

They  were  both  silent,  pondering  the  question.  Then 
said  Bill  Conway,  "Well,  son,  if  I  had  as  much  curi 
osity  regarding  the  reason  for  this  situation  as  you 
have,  I'd  most  certainly  spend  some  money  to  find  out." 

"I  have  the  money  and  I  am  prepared  to  spend  it. 
How  would  you  start,  Bill?" 

"Well,  I'd  buy  a  couple  of  shares  of  stock  in  the 
Central  California  Power  Company  as  a  starter.  Then 
I  would  descend  upon  the  main  office  of  the  company, 
exhibit  my  stock  and  claim  my  stockholder's  right 
to  look  over  the  list  of  stockholders  and  bondholders  of 
record ;  also,  the  board  of  directors  and  the  minutes  of 
the  previous  meetings.  You  may  not  find  John 
Parker's  name  listed  either  as  stockholder,  bondholder 
or  director,  but  you  might  find  the  First  National  Bank 
of  El  Toro,  represented  by  the  cashier  or  the  first 
vice-president  of  that  institution.  Also,  if  I  were  you, 
I'd  just  naturally  hop  the  rattler  for  San  Francisco, 
hie  myself  to  some  stockbroker's  office  to  buy  this  stock, 
and  while  buying  it  look  over  the  daily  reports  of  the 
stock  market  for  the  past  few  years  and  see  if  the 
figures  suggested  anything  to  me." 
.  "Anything  else?" 

"Thus  endeth  the  first  lesson,  Miguel.  At  that 
it's  only  a  vague  suspicion.  Get  out  of  my  way,  boy. 


304  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

I'm  going  out  to  build  a  dam  and  you're  not  ready 
to  stop  ine — yet." 

"Bill,  Fm  serious  about  this.  I  want  you  to  cease 
operations." 

Bill  Conway  turned  upon  him  almost  angrily. 
"What  for?"  he  demanded. 

"I  own  the  Rancho  Palomar.  I  forbid  it*  I  have  a 
good  and  sufficient  reason." 

"But,  son,  I  can  finance  the  confounded  dam*  I 
have  it  financed  already." 

"So  have  I — if  I  cared  to  accept  favors.'* 

Bill  Conway  approached  and  took  his  young  friend 
by  each  shoulder.  "Son,"  he  pleaded,  "please  let  me 
build  this  dam.  I  was  never  so  plumb  interested  in  any 
job  before.  I'll  take  a  chance,  I  know  what  I'm  going 
to  do  and  how  I'm  going  to  do  it,  and  you  aren't  going 
to  be  obligated  the  least  little  bit.  Isn't  John  Parker 
stuck  for  it  all,  in  the  long  run?  Why,  I've  got  that 
hombre  by  the  short  hair." 

"I  know,  but  long  before  you  can  collect  from  him 
you'll  be  financially  embarrassed." 

"Don't  worry.  I've  been  a  miser  all  my  life  and 
Pve  got  a  lot  of  money  hid  out.  Please,  son,  quit 
interfering  with  me.  You  asked  me  to  help  you  out, 
I  accepted  and  I'm  going  to  go  through  until  stopped 
by  legal  procedure.  And  if  you  have  the  law  on  me 
I'll  never  speak  to  you  again." 

"Your  attitude  doesn't  fit  in  with  my  plans,  Bill 
Cbnway.y> 

"Yours  don't  fit  in  with  mine.  Besides,  Pm  older 
than  you  and  if  there  was  one  thing  your  father  taught 
you  it  was  respect  for  your  elders.  Two  heads  are 
better  than  one.  You  crack  right  along  and  try  to 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  305 

save  your  ranch  in  your  way  and  I'll  crack  right  along 
and  try  to  save  it  my  way.  You  pay  your  way  and  I'll 
pay  mine.  That's  fair,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"Fiddlesticks ;  on  your  way.  You're  wasting  your 
breath  arguing  with  me." 

Don  Mike  knew  it.  "Well,  let  me  have  a  set  of  the 
plans,"  he  concluded  sulkily. 

Bill  Conway  handed  him  out  a  roll  of  blue-prints 
and  Farrel  mounted  Panchito  and  returned  to  the 
hacienda.  The  blue-prints  he  hid  in  the  barn  before 
presenting  himself  at  the  house.  He  knew  his  absence 
from  the  breakfast-table  would  not  be  commented  upon, 
because  for  a  week,  during  the  round-up  of  the  cattle, 
he  and  Pablo  and  the  latter's  male  relatives  who  helped 
in  the  riding,  had  left  the  hacienda  at  daylight  after 
partaking  of  a  four  o'clock  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

WE'VE  been  waiting  for  you,  Miguel,  to  motor 
with  us  to  El  Toro,"  Kay  greeted  him  as  he 
entered  the  patio. 

"So  sorry  to  have  delayed  you,  Kay.  I'm  ready  to 
start  now,  if  you  are." 

"Father  and  mother  are  coming  also.  Where  have 
you  been?  I  asked  Pablo,  but  he  didn't  know." 

"I've  been  over  to  Bill  Conway's  camp  to  tell  him 
to  quit  work  on  that  dam." 

The  girl  paled  slightly  and  a  look  of  apprehension 
crept  into  her  eyes.  "And — and — he's — ceasing  opera 
tions  ?"  she  almost  quavered, 

"He  is  not.  He  defied  me,  confound  him,  and  in  the 
end  I  had  to  let  him  have  his  way.59 

El  Mono,  the  butler,  interrupted  them  by  appear 
ing  on  the  porch  to  announce  that  William  waited  in 
the  car  without.  Mrs.  Parker  presently  appeared, 
followed  by  her  husband,  and  the  four  entered  the  wait 
ing  car.  Don  Mike,  satisfied  that  his  old  riding 
breeches  and  coat  were  clean  and  presentable,  had  not 
bothered  to  change  his  clothes,  an  evidence  of  the 
democracy  of  his  ranclwro  caste,  which  was  not  lost 
upon  his  guests. 

"I  know  another  route  to  El  Toro,"  he  confided  to 
the  Parkers  as  the  car  sped  down  the  valley.     "It's  j 
about  twelve  miles  out  of  our  way,  but  it  is  an  in-  \ 

306 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  307 

spiring  drive.  The  road  runs  along  the  side  of  the  high 
hills,  with  a  parallel  range  of  mountains  to  the  east 
and  the  low  foothills  and  flat  farming  lands  sloping 
gradually  west  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  At  one  point  we 
can  look  down  into  La  Questa  Valley  and  it's  beau 
tiful." 

"Let  us  try  that  route,  by  all  means, "  John  Parker 
suggested.  "I  have  been  curious  to  see  La  Questa 
Valley  and  observe  the  agricultural  methods  of  the 
Japanese  farmers  there." 

"I  am  desirous  of  seeing  it  again  for  the  same  reason, 
sir,"  Farrel  replied.  "Five  years  ago  there  wasn't  a 
Jap  in  that  valley  and  now  I  understand  it  is  a  little 
Japan." 

"I  understand,"  Kay  struck  in  demurely,  "that  La 
Questa  Valley  suffered  a  slight  loss  in  population 
a  few  weeks  ago." 

Both  Farrel  and  her  father  favored  her  with  brief, 
sharp,  suspicious  glances.  "Who  was  telling  you?" 
the  latter  demanded. 

"Senor  Bill  Conway." 

"He  ought  to  know  better  than  to  discuss  the  Jap 
anese  problem  with  you,"  Farrel  complained,  and  her 
father  nodded  vigorous  assent.  Kay  tilted  her  ador 
able  nose  at  them. 

"Plow  delightful  to  have  one's  intelligence  under 
rated  by  mere  men,"  she  retorted. 

"Did  Bill  Conway  indicate  the  direction  of  the  tide 
of  emigration  from  La  Questa  ?"  Farrel  asked  craftily, 
still  unwilling  to  admit  anything.  The  girl  smiled 
at  him,  then  leaning  closer  she  crooned  for  his  ear 
alone : 


308  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

He's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 

The  valley, 

The  valley, 

He's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 
And  the  mocking  bird  is  singing 

where  he  lies. 

"Are  you  glad?"  lie  blurted  eagerly.  She  nodded 
and  thrilled  as  she  noted  the  smug  little  smile  of  ap 
proval  and  complete  understanding1  that  crept  over 
his  dark  face  like  the  shadow  of  clouds  in  the  San 
Gregorio.  Mrs.  Parker  was  riding  in  the  front  seat 
with  the  chauffeur  and  Kay  sat  between  her  father  and 
Don  Mike  in  the  tonneau.  His  hand  dropped  care 
lessly  on  her  lap  now,  as  he  made  a  pretense  of  pulling 
the  auto  robe  up  around  her;  with  quick  stealth  he 
caught  her  little  finger  and  pressed  it  hurriedly,  then 
dropped  it  as  if  the  contact  had  burned  him;  whereat 
the  girl  realized  that  he  was  a  man  of  few  words, 
but 

"Dear  old  idiot,"  she  thought.  "If  he  ever  falls  in 
love  he'll  pay  his  court  like  a  schoolboy." 

"By  the  way,  sir,"  Farrel  spoke  suddenly,  turning 
to  John  Parker,  "I  would  like  very  much  to  have 
your  advice  in  the  matter  of  an  investment.  I  will 
have  about  ninety  thousand  dollars  on  hand  as  soon 
as  I  sell  these  cattle  I've  rounded  up,  and  until  I  can 
add  to  this  sum  sufficient  to  lift  the  mortgage  you  hold, 
it  scarcely  seems  prudent  to  permit  my  funds  to  repose 
in  the  First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro  without  draw 
ing  interest." 

"We'll  give  you  two  and  one-half  per  cent,  on  the 
account,  Farrel." 

"Not  enough.     I  want  it  to  earn  six  or  seven  per 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  309 

cent,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  invest  it  in 
some  good  securities  which  I  could  dispose  of  at  a 
moment's  notice,  whenever  I  needed  the  money.  The 
possibility  of  a  profit  on  the  deal  has  even  occurred 
to  me," 

Parker  smiled  humorously.  "And  you  come  to  me 
for  advice?  Why,  boy,  Fm  your  financial  enemy." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Parker,  I  am  unalterably  opposed 
to  you  on  the  Japanese  colonization  scheme  and  I  shall 
do  my  best  to  rob  you  of  the  profit  you  plan  to  make 
at  my  expense,  but  personally  I  find  you  a  singularly 
agreeable  man.  I  know  you  will  never  resign  a  busi 
ness  advantage,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  think  that  if 
I  ask  you  for  advice  as  to  a  profitable  investment  for 
my  pitiful  little  fortune,  you  will  not  be  base  enough 
to  advise  me  to  my  financial  detriment.  I  trust  you. 
Am  I  not  banking  with  your  bank?" 

"Thank  you,  Farrel,  for  that  vote  of  confidence. 
You  possess  a  truly  sporting  attitude  in  business  af 
fairs  and  I  like  you  for  it;  I  like  any  man  who  can 
take  his  beating  and  smile.  Yes,  I  am  willing  to  advise 
an  investment.  I  know  of  a  dozen  splendid  securities 
that  I  can  conscientiously  recommend  as  a  safe  in 
vestment,  although,  in  the  event  of  the  inevitable  settle 
ment  that  must  follow  the  war  and  our  national  orgy 
of  extravagance  and  high  prices,  I  advise  you  frankly 
to  wait  awhile  before  taking  on  any  securities.  You 
cannot  afford  to  absorb  the  inevitable  shrinkage  in 
the  values  of  all  commodities  when  the  show-down 
comes.  However,  there  is  a  new  issue  of  South  Coast 
Power  Company  first  mortage  bonds  that  can  be  bought 
now  to  yield  eight  per  cent,  and  I  should  be  ver}'  much 
inclined  to  take  a  chance  on  them,  Farrel.  The  de- 


310  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

bentures  of  the  power  corporations  in  this  state  are 
about  the  best  I  know  of." 

"I  think  you  are  quite  right,  sir,"  Farrel  agreed. 
"Eventually  the  South  Coast  Company  is  bound  to 
divide  with  the  Pacific  Company  control  of  the  power 
business  of  the  state.  I  dare  say  that  in  the  fullness 
of  time  the  South  Coast  people  will  arrange  a  merger 
with  the  Central  California  Power  Company." 

"Perhaps.  The  Central  California  Company  is 
under-financed  and  not  particularly  well  managed,  Far 
rel.  I  think  it  is,  potentially,  an  excellent  property,  but 
its  bonds  have  been  rather  depressed  for  a  long  time." 

Farrel  nodded  his  understanding.  "Thank  you  for 
your  advice,  sir.  When  I  am  ready  will  your  bank 
be  good  enough  to  arrange  the  purchase  of  the  South 
Coast  bonds  for  me?" 

"Certainly.  Happy  to  oblige  you,  Farrel.  But  do 
not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry.  You  may  lose  more 
in  the  shrinkages  of  values  if  you  buy  now  than  you 
would  make  in  interest." 

"I  shall  be  guided  by  your  advice,  sir.  You  are  very 
kind." 

"By  the  way,"  Parker  continued,  with  a  depreca 
tory  smile,  "I  haven't  entered  suit  against  you  in  the 
matter  of  that  foreclosure.  I  didn't  desire  to  annoy 
you  while  you  were  in  hospital  and  you've  been  busy 
on  the  range  ever  since.  When  can  I  induce  you  to 
submit  to  a  process-server?" 

"This  afternoon  will  suit  me,  Mr.  Parker." 

"Fll  gladly  wait  awhile  longer,  if  you  can  give  me 
any  tangible  assurance  of  your  ability  to  meet  the 
mortgage." 

"I  cannot  do  that  to-day,  sir,  although  I  may  be 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  311 

able  to  do  so  if  you  will  defer  action  for  three  days." 

Parker  nodded  and  the  conversation  languished.  The 
car  had  climbed  out  of  the  San  Gregorio  and  was 
mounting  swiftly  along  the  route  to  La  Questa,  afford 
ing  to  the  Parkers  a  panorama  of  mountain,  hill,  val 
ley  and  sea  so  startling  in  its  vastness  and  its  rugged 
beauty  that  Don  Mike  realized  his  guests  had  been 
silenced  as  much  by  awe  as  by  their  desire  to  avoid 
a  painful  and  unprofitable  conversation. 

Suddenly  they  swung  wide  around  a  turn  and  saw, 
two  thousand  feet  below  them,  La  Questa  Valley.  The 
chauffeur  parked  the  car  on  the  outside  of  the  turn 
to  give  his  passengers  a  long,  unobstructed  view. 

"Looks  like  a  green  checker-board  with  tiny  squares," 
Parker  remarked  presently. 

"Little  Japanese  farms." 

"There  must  be  a  thousand  of  them,  Farrel." 

"That  means  not  less  than  five  thousand  Japanese, 
Mr.  Parker.  It  means  that  literally  a  slice  of  Japan 
has  been  transplanted  in  La  Questa  Valley,  perhaps 
the  fairest  and  most  fruitful  valley  in  the  fairest  and 
most  fruitful  state  in  the  fairest  and  most  fruitful 
country  God  ever  made.  And  it  is  lost  to  white  men !" 

"Serves  them  right.  Why  didn't  they  retain  their 
lands?" 

"Why  doesn't  water  run  up  hill?  A  few  Japs  came 
in  and  leased  or  bought  lands  long  before  we  Cali- 
fornians  suspected  a  'yellow  peril.'  They  paid  good 
prices  to  inefficient  white  farmers  who  were  glad  to 
get  out  at  a  price  in  excess  of  what  any  white  man 
could  afford  to  pay.  After  we  passed  our  land  law 
in  1913,  white  men  continued  to  buy  the  lands  for  a 
corporation  owned  by  Japanese  with  white  dummy  di- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

rectors,  or  a  majority  of  the  stock  of  the  corporation 
ostensibly  owned  by  white  men.  Thousands  of  patri 
otic  Californians  have  sold  their  farms  to  Japanese 
without  knowing  it.  The  law  provides  that  a  Japanese 
cannot  lease  land  longer  than  three  years,  so  when 
their  leases  expire  they  conform  to  our  foolish  law  by 
merely  shifting  the  tenants  from  one  farm  to  another. 
Eventually  so  many  Japs  settled  in  the  valley  that  the 
white  farmers,  unable  to  secure  white  labor,  unable 
to  trust  Japanese  labor,  unable  to  endure  Japanese 
neighbors  or  to  enter  into  Japanese  social  life  weary 
of  paying  taxes  to  support  schools  for  the  education  of 
Japanese  children,  weary  of  daily  contact  with  ir 
ritable,  unreliable  and  unassimilable  aliens,  sold  or 
leased  their  farms  in  order  to  escape  into  a  white  neigh 
borhood.  I  presume,  Mr.  Parker,  that  nobody  can 
realize  the  impossibility  of  withstanding  this  yellow 
flood  except  those  who  have  been  overwhelmed  by  it. 
We  humanitarians  of  a  later  day  gaze  with  gentle 
sympathy  upon  the  spectacle  of  a  noble  and  primeval 
race  like  the  Iroquois  tribe  of  Indians  dying  before 
the  advance  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  civilization,  but  with 
characteristic  Anglo-Saxon  inconsistency  and  stupidity 
we  are  quite  loth  to  feel  sorry  for  ourselves,  doomed 
to  death  before  the  advance  of  a  Mongolian  civilization 
unless  we  put  a  stop  to  it — forcibly  and  immediately  I" 

"Let  us  go  down  and  see  for  ourselves,"  Mrs. 
Parker  suggested. 

Having  reached  the  floor  of  the  valley,  at  FarrePs 
suggestion  they  drove  up  one  side  of  it  and  down  the 
other.  Motor-truck  after  motor-truck,  laden  with 
crated  vegetables,  passed  them  on  the  road,  each  truck 
driven  by  a  Japanese,  some  of  them  wearing  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

peculiar  bamboo  hats   of  tbe  Japanese   coolie  class. 

The  valley  was  given  over  to  vegetable  farming  and 
the  fields  were  dotted  with  men,  women  and  children, 
squatting  on  their  heels  between  the  rows  or  bending 
over  them  in  an  attitude  which  they  seemed  able  to 
maintain  indefinitely,  but  which  would  have  broken  the 
back  of  a  white  man. 

"I  know  a  white  apologist  for  the  Japanese  who  in 
a  million  pamphlets  and  from  a  thousand  rostrums 
has  cried  that  it  is  false  that  Japanese  women  labor 
in  the  fields,"  Farrel  told  his  guests.  "You  have  seen 
a  thousand  of  them  laboring  in  this  valley.  Hundreds 
of  them  carry  babies  on  their  backs  or  set  them  to  sleep 
on  a  gunnysack  between  the  rows  of  vegetables.  There 
is  a  sixteen-year-old  girl  struggling  with  a  one-horse 
cultivator,  while  her  sisters  and  her  mother  hold  up 
their  end  with  five  male  Japs  in  the  gentle  art  of  hoeing 
potatoes. " 

"They  live  in  wretched  little  houses,"  Kay  ventured 
to  remark. 

"Anything  that  will  shelter  a  horse  or  a  chicken  is 
a  palace  to  a  Jap,  Kay.  The  furnishings  of  their 
houses  are  few  and  crude.  They  rise  in  the  morning, 
eat,  labor,  eat,  and  retire  to  sleep  against  another  day 
of  toil.  They  are  all  growing  rich  in  this  valley,  but 
have  you  seen  one  of  these  aliens  building  a  decent  home, 
or  laying  out  a  flower  garden?  Do  you  see  anything 
inspiring  or  elevating  to  our  nation  due  to  the  influ 
ence  of  such  a  race?" 

"Yonder  is  a  schoolhouse,"  Mrs.  Parker  suggested. 
"Let  us  visit  it." 

"The  American  flag  floats  over  that  little  red  school- 
house,  at  any  rate,"  Parker  defended. 


314  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

William  halted  the  car  in  the  schoolhouse  yard  and 
Farrel  got  out  and  walked  to  the  schoolhouse  door. 
An  American  school-teacher,  a  girl  of  perhaps  twenty, 
came  to  the  door  and  met  him  with  an  inquiring  look. 
"May  we  come  in?"  Farrel  pleaded.  "I  have  some 
Eastern  people  with  me  and  I  wanted  to  show  them  the 
sort  of  Americans  you  are  hired  to  teach." 

She  smiled  ruefully.  "I  am  just  about  to  let  them 
out  for  recess,"  she  replied.  "Your  friends  may  re 
main  in  their  car  and  draw  their  own  conclusions." 

"Thank  you."  Don  Mike  returned  to  the  car. 
"They're  coming  out  for  recess,"  he  confided.  "Future 
American  citizens  and  citizenesses.  Count  *em." 

Thirty-two  little  Japanese  boys  and  girls,  three 
Mexican  or  Indian  children  and  four  of  undoubted 
white  parentage  trooped  out  into  the  yard  and  gathered 
around  the  car,  gazing  curiously.  The  school-teacher 
bade  them  run  away  and  play  and,  in  her  role  of  hostess, 
approached  the  car.  "I  am  Miss  Owens,"  she  an 
nounced,  "and  I  teach  this  school  because  I  have  to 
earn  a  living.  It  is  scarcely  a  task  over  which  one 
can  enthuse,  although  I  must  admit  that  Japanese 
children  are  not  unintelligent  and  their  parents  dress 
them  nicely  and  keep  them  clean." 

"I  suppose,  Miss  Owens,"  Farrel  prompted  her, 
having  introduced  himself  and  the  Parkers,  "that  you 
have  to  contend  with  the  native  Japanese  schools." 

She  pointed  to  a  brown  house  half  a  mile  away. 
Over  it  flew  the  flag  of  Japan.  "They  learn  ancestor 
worship  and  how  to  kow-tow  to  the  Emperor's  picture 
down  there,  after  they  have  attended  school  here," 
she  volunteered.  "Poor  little  tots !  Their  heads  must 
ache  with  the  amount  of  instruction  they  receive.  After 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  315 

they  have  learned  here  that  Columbus  discovered  Amer 
ica  on  October  12th,  1492,  they  proceed  to  that  Jap 
anese  school  and  are  taught  that  the  Mikado  is  a 
divinity  and  a  direct  descendant  of  the  Sun  God.  And 
I  suppose,  also,  they  are  taught  that  it  is  a  fine,  clean, 
manly  thing  to  pack  little,  green,  or  decayed  straw 
berries  at  the  bottom  of  a  crate  with  nice  big  ones  on 
top — in  defiance  of  a  state  law.  Our  weights  and 
measures  law  and  a  few  others  are  very  onerous  to  our 
people  in  La  Questa." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Miss  Owens,"  Parker 
asked,  "that  you  despair  of  educating  these  little  Jap 
anese  children  to  be  useful  American  citizens?" 

"I  do.  The  Buddhist  school  over  yonder  is  teaching 
them  to  be  Japanese  citizens;  under  Japanese  law  all 
Japanese  remain  Japanese  citizens  at  heart,  even  if 
they  do  occasionally  vote  here.  The  discipline  of  my 
school  is  very  lax,"  she  continued.  "It  would  be,  of 
course,  in  view  of  the  total  lack  of  parental  support. 
In  that  other  school,  however,  the  discipline  is  ex 
cellent." 

She  continued  to  discourse  with  them,  giving  them 
an  intimate  picture  of  life  in  this  little  Japan  and 
interesting  revelations  upon  the  point  of  view,  family 
life  and  business  ethics  of  the  parents  of  her  pupils, 
until  it  was  time  to  "take  up"  school  again,  when  she 
reluctantly  returned  to  her  poorly  paid  and  unappreci 
ated  efforts. 

"Well,  of  course,  these  people  are  impossible  so 
cially,"  John  Parker  admitted  magnanimously,  "but 
they  do  know  how  to  make  things  grow.  They  are  not 
afraid  of  hard  work.  Perhaps  that  is  why  they  have 
supplanted  the  white  farmers." 


316  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALQMAR 

"Indeed  they  do  know  how,  Mr.  Parker.  And 
they  can  produce  good  crops  more  cheaply  than  a  white 
farmer.  A  Japanese  with  a  wife  and  two  fairly  well- 
grown  daughters  saves  the  wages  of  three  hired  men. 
Thus  he  is  enabled  to  work  his  ground  more  thoroughly. 
When  he  leases  land  he  tries  to  acquire  rich  land,  which 
he  robs  of  its  fertility  in  three  $ears  and  then  passes 
on  to  renew  the  outrage  elsewhere.  Where  he  owns 
land,  however,  he  increases  fertility  by  proper  fertiliza 
tion." 

"So  you  do  not  believe  it  possible  for  a  white  man 
to  compete  economically  with  these  people,  Farrel?" 

"Would  you,  if  you  were  a  white  farmer,  care  to 
compete  with  the  Japanese  farmers  of  this  valley? 
Would  you  care  to  live  in  a  rough  board  shack,  subsist 
largely  on  rice,  labor  from  daylight  to  dark  and  force 
your  wife  and  daughter  to  labor  with  you  in  the  fields  ? 
Would  you  care  to  live  in  a  kennel  and  never  read  a 
book  or  take  an  interest  in  public  affairs  or  thrill  at  a 
sunset  or  consider  that  you  really  ought  to  contribute 
a  dollar  toward  starving  childhood  in  Europe?  Would 
you?" 

"You  paint  a  sorry  picture,  Farrel."  Parker  was 
evasive. 

"I  paint  what  I  see  before  me,"  he  answered  dog 
gedly.  "This — in  five  years.  And  if  this  be  progress 
as  we  view  progress — if  this  be  desirable  industrial  or 
agricultural  evolution,  then  I'm  out  of  tune  with  my 
world  and  my  times,  and  as  soon  as  I  am  certain  of  it 
I'll  blow  my  brains  out." 

Parker  chuckled  at  this  outburst  and  Kay  prodded 
him  with  her  elbow — a  warning  prod.  The  conversa 
tion  languished  immediately.  Don  Mike  sat  staring 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  317 

out  upon  the  little  green  farms  and  the  little  brown 
men  and  women  who  toiled  on  them. 

"Angry,  Don  Mike?"  the  girl  asked  presently.  lie 
bent  upon  her  a  glance  of  infinite  sadness. 

"No,  my  dear  girl,  just  feeling  a  little  depressed. 
It's  hard  for  a  man  who  loves  his  country  so  well 
that  he  would  gladly  die  a  thousand  dreadful  deaths 
for  it,  to  have  to  fight  the  disloyal  thought  that  per 
haps,  after  all,  it  isn't  really  worth  fighting  for  and 
dying  for.  If  we  only  had  the  courage  and  the  fore 
sight  and  the  firmness  of  the  Australians  and  New 
Zealanders!  Why,  Kay,  those  sane  people  will  not 
even  permit  an  Indian  prince — a  British  subject,  for 
sooth — to  enter  their  country  except  under  bond  and 
then  for  six  months  only.  When  the  six  months  have 
expired — heraus  mit  em!  You  couldn't  find  a  Jap  in 
Australia,  with  a  search  warrant.  But  do  you  hear 
any  Japanese  threats  of  war  against  Australia  for  this 
alleged  insult  to  her  national  honor?  You  do  not. 
They  save  that  bunkum  for  pussy-footing,  peace-lov 
ing,  backward-looking,  dollar-worshiping  Americans. 
As  a  nation  we  do  not  wish  to  be  awakened  from  our 
complacency,  and  the  old  theory  that  a  prophet  is 
without  honor  in  his  own  country  is  a  true  one.  So 
perhaps  it  would  be  well  if  we  discuss  something  else 
— luncheon,  for  instance.  Attention!  Silence  in  the 
ranks !  Here  we  are  at  the  Hotel  De  Las  Rosas." 

Having  dined  his  guests,  Farrel  excused  himself, 
strolled  over  to  the  railroad  station  and  arranged  with 
Tthe  agent  for  cattle  cars  to  be  spotted  in  on  the  siding 
close  to  town  three  days  later.  From  the  station  he  re 
paired  to  the  office  of  his  father's  old  attorney,  where 
he  was  closeted  some  fifteen  minutes,  after  which  he 


318  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

returned  to  his  guests,  awaiting  his  return  on  the  wide 
hotel  veranda. 

"Have  you  completed  your  business  ?"  Parker  in 
quired. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have.  I  have  also  completed  some  of 
yours.  Coming  away  from  the  office  of  my  attorney, 
I  noticed  the  office  of  your  attorney  right  across  the 
hall,  so  I  dropped  in  and  accepted  service  of  the  com 
plaint  in  action  for  the  foreclosure  of  your  confounded 
old  mortgage.  This  time  your  suit  is  going  to  stick! 
Furthermore,  as  I  jogged  down  Main  Street,  I  met 
Judge  Morton,  of  the  Superior  Court,  and  made  him 
promise  that  if  the  suit  should  be  filed  this  afternoon 
he  would  take  it  up  on  his  calendar  to-morrow  morn 
ing  and  render  a  judgment  in  your  favor." 

"By  George,"  Parker  declared,  apparently  puzzled, 
"one  gathers  the  impression  that  you  relish  parting 
with  your  patrimony  when  you  actually  speed  the  date 
of  departure." 

Mrs.  Parker  took  Don  Mike  by  the  lapel  of  his 
coat.  "You  have  a  secret,"  she  charged. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"You  have,"  Kay  challenged.  "The  intuition  of  two 
women  cannot  be  gainsaid." 

Farrel  took  each  lady  by  the  arm  and  with  high, 
mincing  steps,  simulating  the  utmost  caution  in  his  ad 
vance,  he  led  them  a  little  way  down  the  veranda  out 
of  hearing  of  the  husband  and  father. 

"It  isn't  a  secret,"  he  whispered,  "because  a  secret 
is  something  which  one  has  a  strong  desire  to  conceal. 
However,  I  do  not  in  the  least  mind  telling  you  the 
cause  of  the  O-be- joyful  look  that  has  aroused  your 
curiosity.  Please  lower  your  heads  and  incline  your 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  319 

best  ears  toward  me.  .  .  .  There!  I  rejoice  because 
I  have  the  shaggy  old  wolf  of  Wall  Street,  more  fa 
miliarly  known  as  John  Parker,  beaten  at  his  favorite 
indoor  sport  of  high  and  lofty  finance.  'Tis  sad,  but 
true.  The  old  boy's  a  gone  fawn.  Le  roi  est  mort! 
vwe  le  roi!" 

Kay's  eyes  danced.     "Really,  Miguel?" 

"Not  really  or  actually,  Kay,  but — er — morally  cer 
tain." 

"Oh !"  There  was  disappointment  in  her  voice.  Her 
mother  was  looking  at  Don  Mike  sharply,  shrewdly,  but 
she  said  nothing,  and  Farrel  had  a  feeling  that  his  big 
moment  had  fallen  rather  flat. 

"How  soon  will  John  be  called  upon  to  bow  his 
head  and  take  the  blow?"  Mrs.  Parker  finally  asked. 
"Much  as  I  sympathize  with  you,  Miguel,  I  dislike 
the  thought  of  John  hanging  in  suspense,  as  it  were." 

"Oh,  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind,"  he  replied. 
"I  could  do  it  within  three  days,  I  think,  but  why  rush 
the  execution?  Three  months  hence  will  be  ample  time. 
You  see,"  he  confided,  "I  like  you  all  so  well  that  I 
plan  to  delay  action  for  six  months  or  a  year,  unless, 
of  course,  you  are  anxious  for  an  excuse  to  leave  the 
ranch  sooner.  If  you  really  want  to  go  as  soon  as 
possible,  of  course  I'll  get  busy  and  cook  Senor  Parker's 
goose,  but " 

"You're  incorrigible !"  the  lady  declared.  "Pro 
crastinate,  by  all  means.  It  would  be  very  lonely  for 
you  without  us,  I'm  sure." 

"Indeed,  it  would  be.  That  portion  of  me  which 
is  Irish  would  picture  my  old  hacienda  alive  at  night 
with  ghosts  and  banshees." 

Mrs.  Parker  was  looking  at  him  thoughtfully ;  seem- 


320  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ingly  she  was  not  listening.  What  she  really  was  doing 
was  saying  to  herself:  "What  marvelous  teeth  he  has 
and  what  an  altogether  debonair,  captivating  young 
rascal  he  is,  to  be  sure!  I  cannot  understand  why  he 
doesn't  melt  John's  business  heart.  Can  it  be  that 
under  that  gay,  smiling,  lovable  surface  John  sees  some 
thing  he  doesn't  quite  like  ?  I  wonder." 

As  they  entered  the  waiting  automobile  and  started 
for  home,  Farrel,  who  occupied  the  front  seat  with 
the  chauffeur,  turned  and  faced  the  Parkers.  "From 
this  day  forward,"  he  promised  them,  "we  are  all  going 
to  devote  ourselves  to  the  serious  task  of  enjoying  life 
to  the  utmost.  For  my  part,  I  am  not  going  to  talk 
business  or  Japanese  immigration  any  more.  Are  you 
all  grateful?" 

"We  are,"  they  cried  in  unison. 

He  thanked  them  with  his  mirthful  eyes,  faced  around 
in  his  seat  and,  staring  straight  ahead,  was  soon  lost 
in  day  dreams.  John  Parker  and  his  wife  exchanged 
glances,  then  both  looked  at  their  daughter,  seated 
between  them.  She,  too,  was  building  castles  in  Spain ! 

When  they  alighted  from  the  car  before  the  hacienda, 
Mrs.  Parker  lingered  until  the  patio  gate  had  closed 
on  her  daughter  and  Farrel ;  then  she  drew  her  husband 
down  beside  her  on  the  bench  under  the  catalpa  tree. 

"John,  Miguel  Farrel  says  he  has  you  beaten." 

"I  hope  so,  dear,"  he  replied  feelingly.  "I  know 
of  but  one  way  out  for  that  young  man,  and  if  he  has 
discovered  it  so  readily  I'd  be  a  poor  sport  indeed  not 
to  enjoy  his  victory." 

"You  never  really  meant  to  take  his  ranch  away 
from  him,  did  you,  John?" 

"I  did,  Kate.    I  do.    If  I  win,  my  victory  will  prove  to 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

my  entire  satisfaction  that  Don  Miguel  Jose  Federico 
Noriaga  Farrel  is  a  throwback  to  the  Mariana  family, 
and  in  that  event,  my  dear,  we  will  not  want  him  in  ours. 
We  ought  to  improve  our  blood-lines,  not  deteriorate 
them." 

"Yet  you  would  have  sold  this  valley  to  that  creature 
Okada." 

"Farrel  has  convinced  me  of  my  error  there.  I  have 
been  anti-Jap  since  the  day  Farrel  was  thrown  from 
his  horse  and  almost  killed — by  a  Jap." 

"I'm  sure  Kay  is  in  love  with  him,  John." 

"Propinquity,"  he  grunted. 

"Fiddlesticks !    The  man  is  perfectly  charming." 

"Perhaps.  We'll  decide  that  point  later.  Do  you 
think  Farrel  is  interested  in  Kay?" 

"I  do  not  know,  John,"  his  better  half  declared 
hopelessly.  "If  he  is,  he  possesses  the  ability  to  con 
ceal  it  admirably." 

"I'll  bet  he's  a  good  poker-player.  He  has  you 
guessing,  old  girl,  and  the  man  who  does  that  is  a  rara 
avis.  However,  Katie  dear,  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't 
worry  about  this — er — affair." 

"John,  I  can't  help  it.  Naturally,  I'm  curious  to 
know  the  thoughts  in  the  back  of  that  boy's  head,  but 
when  he  turns  that  smiling  innocent  face  toward  me, 
all  I  can  see  is  old-fashioned  deference  and  amiability 
and  courtesy.  I  watch  him  when  he's  talking  to  Kay 
— when  he  cannot  possibly  know  I  am  snooping,  and 
still,  except  for  that  frank  friendliness,  his  face  is  as 
communicative  as  this  old  adobe  wall.  A  few  days 
ago  he  rode  in  from  the  range  with  a  great  cluster  of 
wild  tiger-lilies — and  he  presented  them  to  me.  Any 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

other  young  man  would  have  presented  them  to  my 
daughter." 

"I  give  it  up,  Kate,  and  suggest  that  we  turn  this 
mystery  over  to  Father  Time.  He'll  solve  it." 

"But  I  don't  want  Kay  to  fall  in  love  with  Don 
Mike  if  he  isn't  going  to  fall  in  love  with  her,"  she 
protested,  in  her  earnestness  raising  her  voice,  as  waa 
frequently  her  habit. 

The  patio  gate  latch  clicked  and  Pablo  Artelan  stood 
in  the  aperture. 

"Senora"  he  said  gravely.  "Ef  I  am  you  I  don* 
worry  very  much  about  those  boy.  Before  hee's  pretty 
parteecular.  All  those  hightone'  senorita  in  El  Toro 
she  give  eet  the  sweet  look  to  Don  Miguel,  jus'  the  same 
like  thees "  Here  Pablo  relaxed  his  old  body,  per 
mitted  his  head  to  loll  sideways  and  his  lower  jaw  to 
hang  slackly,  the  while  his  bloodshot  eyes  gazed  amor 
ously  into  the  branches  of  the  catalpa  tree.  "But 
those  boy  he  don?  pay  some  attention.  Hee's  give  beeg 
smile  to  thees  senorita,  beeg  smile  to  thees  one,  beeg 
smile  to  that  one,  beeg  smile  for  all  the  mama,  but  for 
the  querida  I  tell  to  you  Don  Miguel  hee's  pretty  par 
teecular.  I  theenk  to  myself — Carolina,  too — 'Look 
here,  Pablo.  What  he  ees  the  matter  weeth  those  boy? 
I  theenk  mebbeso  those  boy  she's  goin'  be  old  bach. 
What's  the  matter  here?  When  I  am  twenty-eight 
anos  my  oldes'  boy  already  hee's  bust  one  bronco'." 
Here  Pablo  paused  to  scratch  his  head.  "But  now," 
he  resumed,  "by  the  blood  of  those  devil  I  know  some- 
theeng!" 

"What  do  you  know,  you  squidgy-nosed  old  idol, 
you?"  Parker  demanded,  with  difficulty  repressing  his 
laughter. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  323 

"I  am  ol'  man,"  Pablo  answered  with  just  the  cor 
rect  shade  of  deprecation,  "but  long  time  ago  I  have 
feel  like  my  corazon — my  heart — goin'  make  barbecue 
in  my  belly.  I  am  in  love.  I  know.  Nobody  can  fool 
me.  An'  those  boy,  Don  Miguel,  I  tell  you,  senor,  hee's 
crazy  for  love  weeth  the  Senorita  Kay." 

Parker  crooked  his  finger,  and  in  obedience  to  the 
summons  Pablo  approached  the  bench. 

"How  do  you  know  all  this,  Pablo  ?" 

Let  us  here  pause  and  consider.  In  the  summer 
of  1769  a  dashing,  care-free  Catalonian  soldier  in  the 
company  of  Don  Gaspar  de  Portola,  while  swashbuck 
ling  his  way  around  the  lonely  shores  of  San  Diego 
Bay,  had  encountered  a  comely  young  squaw.  Mira, 
senores!  Of  the  blood  that  flowed  in  the  veins  of  Pablo 
Artelan,  thirty-one-thirty-seconds  was  Indian,  but  the 
other  one-thirty-second  was  composed  of  equal  parts  of 
Latin  romance  and  conceit. 

Pablo's  great  moment  had  arrived.  Lowly  peon 
that  he  was,  he  knew  himself  at  this  moment  to  be  a 
most  important  personage;  death  would  have  been 
preferable  to  the  weakness  of  having  failed  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  it. 

"Why  I  know,  Senor  Parker?"  Pablo  laughed  briefly, 
lightly,  mirthlessly,  his  cacchination  carefully  designed 
to  convey  the  impression  that  he  considered  the  ques 
tion  extremely  superfluous.  With  exasperating  de 
liberation  he  drew  forth  his  little  bag  of  tobacco  and  a 
brown  cigarette  paper ;  he  smiled  as  he  dusted  into  the 
cigarette  paper  the  requisite  amount  of  tobacco.  With 
one  hand  he  rolled  the  cigarette;  while  wetting  the 
flap  with  his  garrulous  tongue,  he  gazed  out  upon  the 
San  Gregorio  as  one  who  looks  beyond  a  lifted  veil. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

He  answered  his  own  question.  "Well,  senor — and 
you,  sen-oral  I  tell  you.  For  nada — forgeeve;  please,  I 
speak  the  Spanish — for  notheeng,  those  boy  he  poke 
weeth  hee's  thumb  the  rib  of  me." 

"No  r"  cried  John  Parker,  feigning  profound  amaze 
ment. 

"Es  vcrdad.  Eet  ees  true,  senor.  Those  boy  hee's 
happy,  no?  Eh?" 

"Apparently.5' 

"You  bet  you  my  life.  Well,  las'  night  those  boy 
hee's  peench  weeth  his  thumb  an'  theese  fingair — what 
you  suppose?" 

"I  give  it  up,  Pablo." 

Pablo  wiped  away  with  a  saddle-colored  paw  a 
benignant  and  paternal  smile.  He  wagged  his  head 
and  scuffed  his  heel  in  the  dirt.  He  feasted  his  soul 
on  the  sensation  that  was  his. 

"Those  boy  hee's  peench — "  a  dramatic  pause.  Then : 
"Eef  you  tell  to  Don  Miguel  those  things  I  tol'  you — 
Santa  Marias — Hees  cut  my  throat." 

"We  will  respect  your  confidence,  Pablo,"  Mrs. 
Parker  hastened  to  assure  the  traitor. 

"All  right.  Then  I  tol'  to  you  what  those  boy  peench. 
— weeth  hees  thumb  an'  thees  fingair.  Mira.  Like 
thees." 

"Cut  out  the  pantomime  and  disgorge  the  informa 
tion,  for  the  love  of  heaven,"  Parker  pleaded. 

"He  peench" — Pablo's  voice  rose  to  a  pseudo-fem 
inine  screech — "the  cheek  of" — he  whirled  upon  Mrs. 
Parker  and  transfixed  her  with  a  tobacco-stained  index 
finger — "Senorita  Parker,  so  help  me,  by  Jimmy,  eef 
I  tell  you  some  lies  I  hope  I  die  pretty  queeck." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  325 

Both  the  Parkers  stared  at  the  old  man  blankly.  He 
continued : 

"He  peench — queeck — like  that.  He  don'  know  hee's 
goin'  for  peench — hees  all  time  queeck  like  that — he 
don'  theenk.  But  after  those  boy  hee's  peench  the 
cheen  of  those  girl,  hee's  got  red  in  the  face  like  black 
bird's  weeng.  'Oh,'  he  say,  'I  am  sky-blue  eedete-ot,'  an' 
he  run  away  queeck  before  he  forget  heemself  an' 
peench  those  girl  some  more." 

John  Parker  turned  gravely  to  his  wife.  "Old  hon," 
he  murmured  softly,  "Don  Mike  Farrel  is  a  pinch-bug. 
He  pinched  Kay's  chin  during  a  mental  lapse;  then  he 
remembered  he  was  still  under  my  thumb  and  he  cursed 
himself  for  a  sky-blue  idiot." 

"Oh,  John,  dear,  I'm  so  glad."  There  were  tears 
in  Mrs.  Parker's  eyes.  "Aren't  you,  John?" 

"No,  I'm  not,"  he  replied  savagely.  "I  think  it's 
an  outrage  and  I'd  speak  to  Farrel  about  it  if  it  were 
not  apparent  nobody  realizes  more  keenly  than  does 
he  the  utter  impossibility  of  permitting  his  fancy  to 
wander  in  that  direction." 

"John  Parker,  you're  a  hard-hearted  man,"  she  cried, 
and  left  him  in  high  dudgeon,  to  disappear  into  the 
garden.  As  the  gate  closed  behind  her,  John  Parker 
drew  forth  his  pocket  book  and  abstracted  from  it  a 
hundred-dollar  bill,  which  he  handed  to  Pablo  Artelan. 

"We  have  had  our  little  differences,  Pablo,"  he  in 
formed  that  astounded  individual,  "but  we're  gradually 
working  around  toward  a  true  spirit  of  brotherly  love. 
In  the  language  of  the  classic,  Pablo,  I'm  here  to  tell 
the  cock-eyed  world  that  you're  one  good  Indian." 

Pablo    swept    his    old    sombrero    to    the    ground. 


326  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Gracias,  senor,  mille  gracias"  he  murmured,  and 
shuffled  away  with  his  prize. 

Verily,  the  ways  of  this  Gringo  were  many  and 
mysterious.  To-day  one  hated  him ;  to-morrow 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  Pablo  soliloquized, 
"it  is  better  to  be  the  head  of  a  mouse  than  the  tail  of 
a  lion!" 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  following  day  Don  Mike,  Pablo  and  the  latter'a 
male  relatives,  who  had  so  mysteriously  appeared 
on  the  premises,  were  early  ahorse,  driving  to  El  Toro 
the  three  hundred-odd  head  of  cattle  of  all  ages  and 
sizes  rounded  up  on  the  Palomar.  The  cattle  were 
corraled  at  a  ranch  half-way  to  El  Toro  the  first  night, 
and  there  watered  and  fed ;  the  following  night  they 
were  in  the  cattle  pens  at  El  Toro,  arid  the  following 
day  Farrel  loaded  them  aboard  the  cars  and  shipped 
them  out  to  Los  Angeles,  accompanying  the  shipment 
personally.  Two  days  later  he  was  back  on  the  ranch, 
and  the  Parkers  noticed  that  his  exuberant  spirits  had 
not  in  the  least  subsided. 

"I'd  give  a  ripe  peach  to  know  what  that  fellow  is  up 
to,"  John  Parker  complained.  "Confidentially,  I've 
had  him  shadowed  from  the  moment  he  arrived  in  Los 
Angeles  until  the  moment  he  returned  to  El  Toro  and 
started  back  for  the  ranch.  He  has  conferred  with 
nobody  except  the  stock-yard  people.  Nevertheless, 
he  has  a  hen  on." 

"Yes,  and  that  hen  will  hatch  a  young  bald-headed 
eagle  to  scratch  your  eyes  out,"  his  daughter  re 
minded  him,  whereat  he  chuckled. 

"Old  Bill  Conway's  drilling  away  at  his  dam-site," 
he  volunteered  presently,  "and  his  suit  against  me 
for  damages,  due  to  breach  of  contract,  is  set  for 

327 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

trial  so  far  down  Judge  Morton's  calendar  that  the 
old  judge  will  have  to  use  a  telescope  to  find  it.  How 
ever,  I  shouldn't  charge  the  judge  with  a  lack  of  in 
terest  in  my  affairs,  for  he  has  rendered  a  judgment 
in  my  favor  in  the  matter  of  that  mortgage  foreclosure 
and  announced  from  the  bench  that  if  this  judgment 
doesn't  stick  he'll  throw  the  case  out  of  court  the  next 
time  it  is  presented  for  trial.  I  wonder  what  Parrel's 
next  move  will  be?" 

"I  heard  him  announce  that  he  was  going  to  get 
ready  for  the  fiesta"  Kay  replied. 

For  two  weeks  he  was  busy  harrowing,  disking  and 
rolling  the  old  race-track;  he  repainted  the  weather- 
beaten  poles  and  reshingled  the  judge's  stand;  he  re 
paired  the  fence  and  installed  an  Australian  starting- 
gate,  dug  a  pit  for  the  barbecue  and  brought  forth, 
repaired  and  set  up  under  the  oaks  close  to  the  race 
tracks,  thirty  long  wooden  tables  at  which,  in  an  elder 
and  more  romantic  day,  the  entire  countryside,  as 
guests  of  the  Farrels  and  Noriagas,  had  gathered  to 
feast,  Farrel  worked  hard  and  saw  but  little  of  his 
guests,  except  at  meal-times ;  he  retired  somewhat  early 
each  night  and,  insofar  as  his  guests  could  note,  he 
presented  a  most  commendable  example  of  a  young 
man  whose  sole  interest  in  life  lay  in  his  work. 

"When  do  you  plan  to  give  your  fiesta,  Miguel?" 
Kay  inquired  one  evening  as  they  sat,  according  to 
custom,  on  the  veranda. 

"In  about  a  month,"  he  replied.  "I've  got  to  fatten 
my  steers  and  harden  them  on  a  special  diet  before  we 
barbecue  them.  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval  will  have 
charge  of  the  feast,  and  if  I  furnished  him  with  thin, 
tough  range  steers,  he'd  charge  me  with  modernism 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  3M 

and  disown  me.  Old  Bill  Conway  never  would  forget 
it<  He'd  nag  me  to  my  grave.'* 

"When  do  we  give  Panchito  his  try-out,  Don  Mike?" 

"The  track  is  ready  for  it  now,  Kay,  and  Pablo 
tells  me  Panchito's  half-brother  is  now  a  most  dutiful 
member  of  society  and  can  get  there  in  a  hurry  when 
he's  sent  for.  But  he's  only  a  half  thoroughbred.  Shall 
we  start  training  to-morrow?" 

"Oh,  goody.     By  all  means." 

The  long  and  patient  methods  of  education  to  which 
a  green  race-horse  is  subjected  were  unknown  on  the 
Rancho  Palomar.  Panchito  was  a  trained  saddle  ani 
mal,  wise,  sensible,  courageous  and  with  a  prodigious 
faith  that  his  rider  would  get  him  safely  out  of  any 
jam  into  which  they  might  blunder  together.  The 
starting-gate  bothered  him  at  first,  but  after  half  a 
dozen  trials,  he  realized  that  the  web,  flying  upward, 
had  no  power  to  hurt  him  and  was,  moreover,  the 
signal  for  a  short,  jolly  contest  of  speed  with  his  fel 
lows  of  the  rancho.  Before  the  week  was  out  he  was 
"breaking"  from  the  barrier  with  speed  and  serenity 
born  of  the  knowledge  that  this  was  exactly  what  was 
expected  of  him ;  whereupon  the  other  horses  that  Don 
Mike  used  to  simulate  a  field  of  competitors,  took 
heart  of  hope  at  Panchito's  complacency  arid  broke 
rather  well  with  him. 

Those  were  long,  lazy  days  on  the  Palomar.  June 
had  cast  its  withering  smile  upon  the  San  Gregorio  and 
the  green  hills  had  turned  to  a  parched  brown.  Grass 
hoppers  whirred  everywhere;  squirrels  whistled;  oc 
casional  little  dust-devils  whirled  up  the  now  thoroughly 
dry  river-bed  and  the  atmosphere  was  redolent  of  the 
aroma  of  dust  and  tarweed.  Pablo  and  his  dusky  rela- 


330  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

lives,  now  considerably  augmented  (albeit  Don  Mike 
had  issued  no  invitation  to  partake  of  his  hospitality), 
trained  colts  as  roping  horses  or  played  Mexican  monte 
in  the  shade  of  the  help's  quarters.  Occasionally  they 
roused  themselves  long  enough  to  justify  their  inroads 
upon  Don  Mike's  groceries  by  harvesting  a  forty-acre 
field  of  alfalfa  and  irrigating  it  for  another  crop,  for 
which  purpose  a  well  had  been  sunk  in  the  bed  of  the 
dry  San  Gregorio. 

The  wasted  energies  of  these  peons  finally  commenced 
to  irritate  John  Parker. 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  tolerate  the  presence 
of  this  healthy  lot  of  cholo  loafers  and  grafters,  Far 
rel?"  he  demanded  one  day.  "Have  you  any  idea  of 
what  it  is  costing  you  to  support  that  gang?" 

"Yes,"  Farrel  replied.     "About  ten  dollars  a  day." 

"You  cannot  afford  that  expense." 

"I  know  it.  But  then,  they're  the  local  color,  they've 
always  been  and  they  will  continue  to  be  while  I  have 
title  to  this  ranch.  Why,  their  hearts  would  be  broken 
if  I  refused  them  permission  to  nestle  under  the  cloak 
of  my  philanthropy,  and  he  is  a  poor  sort  of  white 
man  who  will  disappoint  a  poor  devil  of  a  cholo." 

"You're  absolutely  incomprehensible,"  Parker  de 
clared. 

Farrel  laughed.  "You're  not,"  he  replied.  "Know 
anything  about  a  stop-watch?" 

"I  know  all  about  one." 

"Well,  your  daughter  has  sent  to<  San  Francisco 
for  the  best  stop-watch  money  can  buy,  and  it's  here. 
Pve  had  my  father's  old  stop-watch  cleaned  and  regu 
lated.  Panchito's  on  edge  and  we're  going  to  give  him 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  331 

a  half-mile  tryout  to-morrow,  so  I  want  two  stop 
watches  on  him.  Will  yon  oblige,  sir?" 

Parker  willingly  consented,  and  the  following  morn 
ing  Farrel  and  his  guests  repaired  to  the  race-track, 
Kay,  mounted  on  Panchito  in  racing  gear,  was,  by 
courtesy,  given  a  position  next  to  the  rail.  Eighty 
pounds  of  dark  meat,  answering  to  the  name  of  Al- 
lesandro  Trujillo  and  claiming  Pablo  Artelan  as  his 
grandfather,  drew  next  position  on  Peep-sight,  as 
Farrel  had  christened  Panchito's  half-brother,  while 
three  other  half-grown  cholo  youths,  gathered  at  ran 
dom  here  and  there,  faced  the  barrier  on  the  black  mare, 
the  old  gray  roping  horse  and  a  strange  horse  belong 
ing  to  one  of  the  volunteer  jockeys. 

There  was  considerable  backing,  filling  and  some 
bucking  at  the  barrier,  and  Pablo  and  two  of  his 
relatives,  acting  as  starters,  were  kept  busy  straighten 
ing  out  the  field.  Finally,  with  a  shrill  yip,  Pablo 
released  the  web  and  the  flighty  young  Peep-sight  was 
away  in  front,  with  the  black  mare's  nose  at  his  saddle- 
girth  and  the  field  spread  out  behind  him,  with  Panchito 
absolutely  last. 

At  the  quarter-pole  Kay  had  worked  her  mount 
easily  up  through  the  ruck  to  contend  with  Peep-sight. 
The  half-thoroughbred  was  three  years  old  and  his 
muscles  had  been  hardened  by  many  a  wild  scramble  up 
and  down  the  hills  of  El  Palomar;  he  was  game,  he 
was  willing,  and  for  half  a  mile  he  was  marvelously 
fast,  as  Farrel  had  discovered  early  in  the  tryouts. 
Indeed,  as  a  "quarter-horse"  Farrel  knew  that  few 
horses  might  beat  the  comparatively  green  Peep-sight 
and  he  had  been  indiscreet  enough  to  make  that  state 
ment  in  the  presence  of  youthful  Allesandro  Trujillo, 


THE  PHIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

thereby  filling  that  young  hopeful  with  a  tremendous 
ambition  to  race  the  famed  Panchito  into  submission 
for  the  mere  sport  of  a  race. 

In  a  word,  Allesandro's  Indian  blood  was  up.  If 
there  was  anything  he  loved,  it  was  a  horse-race  for 
money,  chalk,  marbles  or  fun.  Therefore  when  a  quick 
glance  over  his  shoulder  showed  Panchito's  blazed  face 
at  Peep-sight's  rump,  Allesandro  clucked  to  his  mount, 
gathered  the  reins  a  trifle  tighter  and  dug  his  dirty 
bare  heels  into  Peep-sight's  ribs,  for  he  was  riding  bare 
back,  as  an  Indian  should.  Peep-sight  responded  to 
the  invitation  with  such  alacrity  that  almost  instantly 
lie  had  opened  a  gap  of  two  full  lengths  between  him 
self  and  Kay  on  Panchito. 

Farrel  and  Parker,  holding  their  stop-watches, 
watched  the  race  from  the  judge's  stand. 

"By  Jove,  that  Peep-sight  is  a  streak,"  Parker  de 
clared  admiringly.  "He  can  beat  Panchito  at  that  dis 
tance,  even  at  proportionate  weights  and  with  an  even 
break  at  the  start." 

Parrel  nodded,  his  father's  old  racing-glass  fixed  on 
Allesandro  and  Kay.  The  girl  had  "gathered"  her 
mount;  she  was  leaning  low  on  his  powerful  neck  and 
Barrel  knew  that  she  was  talking  to  him,  riding  him  out 
as  he  had  never  been  ridden  before.  And  he  was  re 
sponding.  Foot  by  foot  he  closed  the  distance  that 
^eep-sight  had  opened  up,  but  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  the  finish  Allesandro  again  called  upon  his  mount  for 
some  more  of  the  same,  and  the  gallant  Peep-sight  flat 
tened  himself  perceptibly  and  held  his  own ;  nor  could 
Panchito's  greatest  efforts  gain  upon  the  flying  half- 
breed  a  single  inch. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  333 

"Bully  for  the  Indian  kid,"  Parker  yelled.  "Man, 
man,  that's  a  horse  race." 

"They'll  never  stop  at  the  half-mile  pole,"  Farrel 
laughed.  "That  race  will  be  won  by  Panchito  when 
Panchito  wins  it.  Ah,  I  told  you  so." 

"Well,  Peep-sight  wins  at  the  half  by  one  open  length 
— and  the  cholo  boy  is  using  a  switch  on  him !" 

"He's  through.  Panchito  is  gaining  on  him.  He'll 
pass  him  at  the  three-quarter  pole." 

"Right-o,  Farrel.  Panchito  wins  by  half  a  length  at 
the  three-quarter  pole " 

"I  wish  Kay  would  pull  him  up,"  Farrel  complained. 
"He's  gone  too  far  already  and  there  she  is  still  head 
ing  for  home  like  the  devil  beating  tan-bark  .  .  .  well, 
if  she  breaks  him  down  she's  going  to  be  out  the  grand 
est  saddle  animal  in  the  state  of  California.  That's 
all  I  have  to  say.  .  .  .  Kay,  Kay,  girl,  what's  the  mat 
ter  with  you?  Pull  him  up  ...  by  the  blood  of  the 
devil,  she  can't  pull  him  up.  She's  broken  a  rein  and 
he's  making  a  run  of  it  on  his  own." 

"Man,  look  at  that  horse  go." 

"Man,  look  at  him  come!" 

Panchito  had  swung  into  the  home-stretch,  his  white 
face  and  white  front  legs  rising  and  falling  with  the 
strong,  steady  rhythm  of  the  horse  whose  stout  heart 
refuses  to  acknowledge  defeat,  the  horse  who  still  has 
something  left  for  a  supreme  effort  at  the  finish. 

"There  is  a  true  race-horse,"  Parker  cried  exult 
antly.  "I  once  won  a  ten-thousand-dollar  purse  with 
a  dog  that  wasn't  fit  to  appear  on  the  same  track  with 
that  Panchito." 

The  big  chestnut  thudded  by  below  them,  stretched 
to  the  limit  of  his  endurance,  passed  what  would  have 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

been  the  finish  had  the  race  been  a  mile  and  a  sixteenth, 
and  galloped  up  the  track  with  the  broken  bridle-rein 
dangling.  He  slowed  down  as  he  came  to  the  other 
horses  in  the  race,  now  jogging  back  to  the  judge's 
stand,  and  one  of  the  cJiolo  youths  spurred  alongside 
of  him,  caught  the  dangling  rein  and  led  him  back  to 
the  judge's  stand. 

Kay's  face  was  a  little  bit  white  as  she  smiled  up  at 
her  father  and  Farrel.  "The  old  darling  ran  away  with 
me,"  she  called. 

Farrel  was  instantly  at  her  side  and  had  lifted  her 
out  of  the  saddle.  She  clung  to  him  for  the  barest 
moment,  trembling  with  fear  and  excitement,  before 
turning  to  examine  Panchito,  from  whom  Pablo  had  al 
ready  stripped  the  saddle.  He  was  badly  blown,  as 
trembly  as  the  girl  herself,  and  dripping  with  sweat, 
but  when  Pablo  slipped  the  headstall  on  him  and  com- 
menced  to  walk  him  up  and  down  to  "cool  him  out," 
Don  Mike's  critical  eye  failed  to  observe  any  evil  effects 
from  the  long  and  unaccustomed  race. 

John  Parker  came  down  out  of  the  grand  stand, 
his  thumb  still  tightly  pressing  the  stem  of  his  stop 
watch,  which  he  thrust  under  Farrel's  nose. 

"Look,  you  star-spangled  ignoramus,  look,"  he 
yelled.  "You  own  a  horse  that's  fit  to  win  the  Mel 
bourne  Cup  or  the  American  Derby,  and  you  don't 
know  it.  What  do  you  want  for  him?  Give  you  ten 
thousand  for  him  this  minute — and  I  am  not  so  certain 
that  race  hasn't  hurt  him." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  sell  Panchito.  I  can  make  this 
ranch  pay  ten  thousand  dollars,  but  I  cannot  breed 
another  Panchito  on  it." 

"Farrel,  if  you  refuse  to  sell  me  that  horse  I'm  go- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  335 

ing  to  sit  right  down  here  and  weep;  Son,  I  don't 
know  a  soul  on  earth  who  can  use  twelve — yes,  fifteen — 
thousand  dollars  handier  than  you  can." 

Don  Mike  smiled  his  lazy,  tantalizing  smile.  "I 
might  as  well  be  broke  as  the  way  I  am,"  he  protested. 
"What's  a  paltry  fifteen  thousand  dollars  to  a  man 
who  needs  half  a  million?  Mr.  Parker,  my  horse  is 
not  for  sale  at  any  price." 

"You  mean  that?" 

"Absolutely." 

John  Parker  sighed.  Since  that  distant  day  when 
he  had  decided  that  he  could  afford  such  a  luxury,  his 
greatest  delight  had  been  in  owning  and  "fussing"  with 
a  few  really  great  race-horses.  He  had  owned  some 
famous  sprinters,  but  his  knowledge  of  the  racing  game 
had  convinced  him  that,  could  he  but  acquire  Panchito, 
he  would  be  the  owner  of  a  true  king  of  the  turf.  The 
assurance  that,  with  all  his  great  wealth,  this  supreme 
delight  was  denied  him,  was  a  heavy  blow. 

Kay  slipped  her  arm  through  his.  "Don't  cry,  pa, 
please !  We'll  wait  until  Don  Mike  loses  all  his  sheep 
and  cow  money  and  then  we'll  buy  Panchito  for  a  song." 

"Oh,  Kay,  little  girl,  that  horse  is  a  peach.  I  think 
I'd  give  a  couple  of  toes  for  the  fun  of  getting  my  old 
trainer  Dan  Leighton  out  here,  training  this  animal 
quietly  up  here  in  the  valley  where  nobody  could  get 
a  line  on  his  performances,  then  shipping  him  east  to 
Saratoga,  where  I'd  put  a  good  boy  on  him,  stick  him 
in  rotten  company  and  win  enough  races  to  qualify  him 
for  the  biggest  event  of  the  year.  And  then !  Oh,  how 
I  would  steal  the  Derby  from  John  H.  Hatfield  and  his 
four-year-old  wonder.  I  owe  Hatfield  a  poke  anyhow. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

We  went  raiding  together  once  and  the  old  sinner 
double-crossed  me." 

"Who  is  John  H.  Hatfield?"  Don  Mike  queried 
mildly. 

"Oh,  he's  an  aged  sinner  down  in  Wall  Street.  He 
works  hard  to  make  the  New  Yorkers  support  his 
racing  stables.  Poor  old  John!  All  he  has  is  some 
money  and  one  rather  good  horse." 

"And  you  wish  to  police  this  Hatfield  person,  sir?" 

"If  I  could,  I'd  die  happy,  Farrel." 

"Very  well.  Send  for  your  old  trainer,  train  Pan- 
chito,  try  him  out  a  bit  at  Tia  Juana,  Lower  California, 
at  the  meeting  this  winter,  ship  him  to  Saratoga  and 
make  Senor  Hatfield  curse  the  day  he  was  born.  I  have 
a  very  excellent  reason  for  not  selling  Panchito  to  you, 
but  never  let  it  be  said  that  I  was  such  a  poor  sport 
I  refused  to  loan  him  to  you — provided,  of  course,  Kay 
agrees  to  this  course.  He's  her  mount,  you  know,  while 
she's  on  El  Palomar." 

Parker  turned  to  his  daughter.  "Kay,"  he  demand 
ed,  "do  you  love  your  poor  old  father?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  pa,  but  you  can't  have  Panchito  until 
you  do  something  for  me." 

"Up  jumped  the  devil!    What  do  you  want?" 

"If  you  accept  a  favor  from  Miguel  Farrel  you 
ought  to  be  sport  enough  to  grant  him  one.  If  you  ever 
expect  to  see  Panchito  in  your  racing  colors  out  in 
front  at  the  American  Derby,  Miguel  must  have  a  re 
newal  of  his  mortgage." 

"Oh,  the  devil  take  that  mortgage.  You  and  your 
mother  never  give  me  a  moment's  peace  about  it.  You 
make  me  feel  like  a  criminal;  it's  getting  so  I'll  have 
to  sit  around  playing  mumbley-peg  in  order  to  get  a 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  S37 

thrill  in  my  old  age.  You  win,  Kay.  Farrel,  I  will 
grant  you  a  renewal  of  the  mortgage.  Pm  weary  of 
being  a  Shy  lock." 

"Thanks  ever  so  much.  I  do  not  desire  it,  Mr.  Par 
ker.  One  of  these  bright  days  when  I  get  around  to  it, 
and  provided  luck  breaks  my  way,  I'll  take  up  that 
mortgage  before  the  redemption  period  expires.  I 
have  resolved  to  live  my  life  free  from  the  shadow  of 
an  accursed  mortgage.  Let  me  see,  now.  We  were 
talking  about  horse-racing,  were  we  not?" 

"Miguel  Farrel,  you'd  anger  a  sheep,"  Parker  cried 
wrathfully,  and  strode  away  toward  his  automobile 
waiting  in  the  infield.  Kay  and  Don  Mike  watched  him 
drive  straight  across  the  valley  to  the  road  and  turn  in 
the  direction  of  El  Toro. 

'Wilder  than  a  March  hare,"  Don  Mike  commented. 

"Not  at  all,"  Kay  assured  him.  "He's  merely  risk 
ing  his  life  in  his  haste  to  reach  El  Toro  and  telegraph 
Dan  Leighton  to  report  immediately.'* 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

JOHN  PARKER'S  boredom  had  been  cured  by  a 
**  stop-watch.  One  week  after  Panchito  had  given 
evidence  of  his  royal  breeding,  Parker's  old  trainer, 
Dan  Leighton,  arrived  at  the  Palomar.  Formerly  a 
jockey,  he  was  now  in  his  fiftieth  year,  a  wistful  little 
man  with  a  puckered,  shrewd  face,  which  puckered 
more  than  usual  when  Don  Mike  handed  him  Panchito's 
pedigree. 

"He's  a  marvelous  horse,  Danny,"  Parker  assured 
the  old  trainer. 

"No  thanks  to  him.  He  ought  to  be,"  Leighton  re 
plied.  His  cool  glance  measured  Allesandro  Trujillo, 
standing  hard  by.  "I'll  have  that  dusky  imp  for  an  ex 
ercise  boy,"  he  announced.  "He's  built  like  an  aero 
plane — all  superstructure  and  no  solids." 

For  a  month  the  training  of  Panchito  went  on  each 
morning.  Pablo's  grandson,  under  Danny  Leighton's 
tuition,  proved  an  excellent  exercise  boy.  He  learned  to 
sit  his  horse  in  the  approved  jockey  fashion;  proud  be 
yond  measure  at  the  part  he  was  playing,  he  paid 
strict  attention  to  Leighton's  instructions  and  pro 
gressed  admirably. 

Watching  the  horse  develop  under  skilled  scientific 
training,  it  occurred  to  Don  Mike  each  time  he  held 
his  father's  old  stop-watch  on  Panchito  that  race 
horses  had,  in  a  great  measure,  conduced  to  the  ruin 
of  the  Noriagas  and  Farrels,  and  something  told  him 

338 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  339 

that  Panchito  was  likely  to  prove  the  instrument  for 
the  utter  financial  extinction  of  the  last  survivor  of 
that  famous  tribe.  "If  he  continues  to  improve," 
Farrel  told  himself,  "he's  worth  a  bet — and  a  mighty 
heavy  one.  Nevertheless,  Panchito's  grandfather,  lead 
ing  his  field  by  six  open  lengths  in  the  home-stretch, 
going  strong  and  a  sure-fire  winner,  tangled  his  feet, 
fell  on  his  nose  and  cost  my  father  a  thousand  steers 
six  months  before  they  were  ready  for  market.  I  ought 
to  leave  John  Parker  to  do  all  the  betting  on  Panchito, 
but — well,  he's  a  race-horse — and  I'm  a  Farrel." 

"When  will  Panchito  be  ripe  to  enter  in  a  mile  and 
a  sixteenth  race?"  he  asked  Parker. 

"About  the  middle  of  November.  The  winter  meet 
ing  will  be  on  at  Tia  Juana,  Baja  California,  then,  and 
Leighton  wants  to  give  him  a  few  try-outs  there  in 
fast  company  over  a  much  shorter  course.  We  will  win 
with  him  in  a  field  of  ordinary  nags  and  we  will  be  care 
ful  not  to  win  too  far  or  too  spectacularly.  We  have 
had  his  registry  brought  up  to  date  and  of  course  you 
will  be  of  record  as  his  owner.  In  view  of  our  plans, 
it  would  never  do  for  Danny  and  me  to  be  connected 
with  him  in  any  way." 

Don  Mike  nodded  and  rode  over  to  Agua  Caliente 
Basin  to  visit  Bill  Conway.  Mr.  Conway  was  still  on 
the  job,  albeit  Don  Mike  hazarded  a  guess  that  the  old 
schemer  had  spent  almost  two  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars.  His  dam  was,  as  he  facetiously  remarked,  "tak 
ing  concrete  shape,"  and  he  was  rushing  the  job  in 
order  to  have  the  structure  thoroughly  dry  and  "set" 
against  the  coming  of  the  winter  rains.  To  his  signal 
relief,  Farrel  asked  him  no  embarrassing  questions  re 
garding  the  identity  of  the  extremely  kind-hearted  per- 


340  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

son  who  was  financing  him;  he  noticed  that  his  young 
friend  appeared  a  trifle  pre-occupied  and  depressed. 
And  well  he  might  be.  The  secret  knowledge  that  he 
was  obligated  to  Kay  Parker  to  the  extent  of  the  cost 
of  this  dam  was  irritating  to  his  pride;  while  he  felt 
that  her  loving  interest  and  sympathy,  so  tremendously 
manifested,  was  in  itself  a  debt  he  would  always  rejoice 
in  because  he  never  could  hope  to  repay  it,  it  did  irk 
him  to  be  placed  in  the  position  of  never  being  able  to 
admit  his  knowledge  of  her  action.  He  prayed  that 
Bill  Conway  would  be  enabled  to  complete  the  dam  as 
per  his  contract ;  that  Judge  Morton  would  then  rush 
to  trial  Conway's  suit  for  damages  against  Parker 
for  non-performance  of  contract ;  that  Conway  would 
be  enabled  immediately  to  reimburse  himself  through 
Parker's  assets  which  he  had  attached,  repay  Kay  and 
close  the  transaction. 

On  November  fifteenth  Danny  Leighton  announced 
that  Panchito  was  "right  on  edge"  and,  with  a  few 
weeks  of  experience  in  professional  company,  fit  to 
make  the  race  of  his  career.  The  winter  meeting  was 
already  on  at  Tia  Juana  and,  with  FarrePs  consent, 
Panchito  was  lovingly  deposited  in  a  well-padded  crate 
mounted  on  a  motor  truck  and  transported  to  El  Toro. 
Here  he  was  loaded  in  an  express  car  and,  guarded  by 
Don  Mike,  shipped  not  to  Tia  Juana,  as  Parker  and  his 
trainer  both  supposed  he  would  be,  but  to  San  Diego, 
sixteen  miles  north  of  the  international  boundary — a 
change  of  plan  originating  with  Farrel  and  by  him 
kept  a  secret  from  Parker  and  Danny  Leighton.  With 
Panchito  went  an  ancient  Saratoga  trunk,  Pablo  Arte- 
lan,  and  little  Allesandro  Trujillo,  ragged  and  bare 
footed  as  usual. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Upon  arriving  in  San  Diego  Don  Mike  unloaded  Pan- 
chito  at  the  Santa  Fe  depot.  Gone  now  were  the  leg 
bandages  and  the  beautiful  blanket  with  which  Danny 
Leighton  had  furnished  Panchito  at  starting.  These 
things  proclaimed  the  race-horse,  and  that  was  not  part 
of  Don  Mike's  plan.  He  led  the  animal  to  a  vacant 
lot  a  few  blocks  from  the  depot  and,  leaving  him  there 
in  charge  of  Pablo,  went  up  town  to  the  Mexican  con 
sulate  and  procured  passports  into  Baja  California 
for  himself  and  Allesandro.  From  the  consulate  he 
went  to  a  local  stock-yard  and  purchased  a  miserable, 
flea-bitten,  dejected  saddle  mule,  together  with  a  dilapi 
dated  old  stock  saddle  with  a  crupper,  and  a  well-worn 
horse-hair  hackamore. 

Returning  to  the  depot,  he  procured  his  old  Sara 
toga  trunk  from  the  station  master  and  removed  from 
it  the  beautiful  black-leather,  hand-carved,  silver- 
mounted  stock  saddle  he  had  won  at  a  rodeo  some  years 
previous;  a  pair  of  huge,  heavy,  solid  silver  Mexican 
spurs,  with  tan  carved-leathern  straps,  and  a  finely 
plaited  hand-made  rawhide  bridle,  sans  throat-latch 
and  brow-band  and  supporting  a  long,  cruel,  solid  sil 
ver  Spanish  bit,  with  silver  chain  chin-strap  and  heavily 
embossed.  In  this  gear  he  arrayed  Panchito,  and  then 
mounted  him.  Allesandro  mounted  the  flea-bitten  mule, 
the  old  Saratoga  trunk  was  turned  over  to  Pablo,  and 
with  a  fervent  "Adios,  Don  Miguel.  Go  with  God!" 
from  the  old  majordomo,  Don  Mike  and  his  little  com 
panion  rode  south  through  the  city  toward  the  interna 
tional  boundary. 

They  crossed  at  Tecarte  next  day  and  in  the  som 
nolent  little  border  town  Don  Mike  made  sundry  pur- 


342  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

chases  and  proceeded  south  on  the  road  toward  En- 
senada. 

Meanwhile,  John  Parker,  his  wife  and  daughter  and 
Danny  Leighton  had  motored  to  San  Diego  and  taken 
rooms  at  a  hotel  there.  Each  day  they  attended  the 
races  at  Tia  Juana,  and  as  often  as  they  appeared  there 
they  looked  long  and  anxiously  for  Don  Miguel  Jose 
Federico  Noriaga  Farrel.  But  in  vain. 

Three  days  before  Thanksgiving  the  entries  for  the 
Thanksgiving  handicap  were  announced,  and  when 
Danny  Leighton  read  them  in  the  morning  paper  he 
at  once  sought  his  employer. 

"That  fellow  Farrel  has  spoiled  everything,"  he  com 
plained  furiously.  "He's  entered  Panchito  in  the 
Thanksgiving  Handicap  at  a  mile  and  a  sixteenth,  for 
a  ten  thousand  dollar  purse.  There  he  is  !'* 

Parker  read  the  list  and  sighed.  "Well,  Panchito  is 
his  horse,  Danny.  He  has  a  right  to  enter  him  if  he 
pleases — hello !  Katie!  Kay!  Here's  news  for  you. 
Listen !» 

He  read  aloud: 

DON  QUIXOTE  AND  SANCHO  PANZA,  JR. 

ARRIVE    AT    TIA    JUANA THEY    ENTER    PANCHITO    IN    THE 

THANKSGIVING  HANDICAP 

By  the  Rail  Bird 

Considerable  interest  having  developed  among  the  fol 
lowers  of  the  sport  of  kings  at  Tia  Juana  race-track  anent 
the  entry  of  Panchito  in  the  Thanksgiving  Handicap, 
and  the  dope  books  yielding  nothing,  your  correspondent 
hied  him  to  the  office  of  the  secretary  of  the  Lower  Cal 
ifornia  Jockey  Club;  whereupon  he  was  regaled  with  the 
following  extraordinary  tale: 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Two  days  ago  a  Mexican  rode  into  Tia  Juana  from  the 
south.  He  was  riding  Panchito  and  his  outfit  was  the  last 
word  in  Mexican  magnificence.  His  saddle  had  cost  him 
not  a  real  less  than  five  hundred  dollars  gold;  his  silver 
spurs  could  have  been  pawned  in  any  Tia  Juana  loan  office 
for  twenty-five  dollars  and  many  a  longing  glance  was 
cast  on  a  magnificent  bridle  that  would  have  cost  any 
bricklayer  a  month's  pay.  Panchito,  a  splendid  big  chest 
nut  with  two  white  stockings  and  a  blazed  face,  was  gray 
with  sweat  and  alkali  dust  and  shod  like  a  plow  horse. 
He  wore  cactus  burrs  in  his  tail  and  mane  and  had  evi 
dently  traveled  far. 

His  rider  claimed  to  have  been  on  the  road  a  week, 
and  his  soiled  clothing  and  unshaven  face  gave  ample 
testimony  of  that  fact.  He  was  arrayed  in  the  traditional 
costume  of  the  Mexican  ranchero  of  means  and  spoke 
nothing  but  Spanish,  despite  which  handicap  the  racing 
secretary  gleaned  that  his  name  was  Don  Miguel  Jose 
Maria  Federico  Noriaga  Farrelle.  Following  Don 
Miguel  came  Sancho  Panza,  Junior,  a  stringy  Indian 
youth  of  fourteen  summers,  mounted  on  an  ancient  flea- 
bitten  mule.  The  food  and  clothing  of  these  two  ad 
venturers  were  carried  behind  them  on  their  saddles. 

An  interpreter  informed  the  secretary  that  Don  Miguel 
was  desirous  of  entering  his  horse,  Panchito,  in  the 
Thanksgiving  Handicap.  The  horse's  registration  papers 
being  in  order,  the  entry  was  accepted,  Don  Quixote  and 
Sancho  Panza,  Junior,  were  each  given  a  badge,  and  a 
stall  was  assigned  to  Panchito.  At  the  same  time  Don 
Quixote  made  application  for  an  apprentice  license  for 
young  Sancho  Panza,  who  answers  to  the  name  of 
Allesandro  Trujillo,  when  the  enchiladas  are  ready. 

Panchito,  it  appears,  is  a  five-year-old,  bred  by  Michael 
J.  Farrel,  whose  post-office  address  is  El  Toro,  San 
Marcos  County,  California.  He  is  bred  in  the  purple, 
being  a  descendant  of  Duke  of  Norfolk  and,  according 
to  his  present  owner,  Don  Quixote,  he  can  run  circles 
around  an  antelope  and  has  proved  it  in  a  number  of 
scrub  races  at  various  fiestas  and  celebrations.  According 


344  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

to  Don  Quixote,  his  horse  has  never  hitherto  appeared 
on  a  public  race-track.  Panchito  knows  far  more  about 
herding  and  roping  steers  than  he  does  about  professional 
racing,  and  enters  the  list  with  no  preparation  other 
than  the  daily  exercise  afforded  in  bearing  his  owner 
under  a  forty-pound  stock  saddle  and  scrambling  through 
the  cactus  after  longhorns.  Evidently  Don  Quixote 
knows  it  all.  He  brushed  aside  with  characteristic  Cas- 
tilian  grace  some  well-meant  advice  tendered  him  by  his 
countrymen,  who  have  accumulated  much  racing  wisdom 
since  the  bang-tails  have  come  to  Tia  Juana.  He  spent  the 
entire  day  yesterday  telling  everybody  who  understands 
Spanish  what  a  speed  marvel  is  his  Panchito,  while 
Sancho  Panza,  Junior,  galloped  Panchito  gently  around 
the  track  and  warmed  him  in  a  few  quarter-mile  sprints. 
It  was  observed  that  the  cactus  burrs  were  still  decorating 
Panchito's  tail  and  mane. 

Don  Quixote  is  a  dead  game  Mexican  sport,  however. 
He  has  a  roll  that  would  choke  a  hippopotamus  and  ap 
pears  willing  to  bet  them  as  high  as  a  hound's  back. 

Figure  it  out  for  yourself.  You  pays  your  money  and 
you  takes  your  choice.  Bobby  Wilson,  the  handicapper, 
says  Don  Quixote  smokes  marihuana,  but  the  jefe  politico 
says  he  knows  it's  the  fermented  juice  of  the  century 
plant.  However,  Bobby  is  taking  no  chances  as  the  wise 
ones  will  note  when  they  check  the  weights.  Panchito, 
being  a  powerful  horse  and  (according  to  Don  Quixote) 
absolutely  unbeatable,  faces  the  barrier  with  an  impost  of 
118  pounds,  not  counting  his  shoes,  cactus  burrs  and 
stable  accumulations. 

Watch  for  Sancho  Panza,  Junior.  He  rides  barefooted 
in  a  two-piece  uniform,  to  wit,  one  "nigger"  shirt  and  a 
pair  of  blue  bib  overalls,  and  he  carries  a  willow  switch. 

Viva  Panchito.  Viva  Don  Quixote.  Ditto  Sancho 
Panza,  Junior. 


John  Parker  finished  reading  and  his  glance  sought 
Leighton's.      "Danny,"  he  informed  the  trainer  in  a 


THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR  345 

low  voice,  "here  is  what  I  call  a  dirty,  low,  Irish  trick. 
I  suppose  he's  been  making  a  night-bird  out  of  Pan- 
chito,  but  you  can  bet  your  last  nickel  he  isn't  neglect 
ing  him  when  they're  alone  in  the  barn  together.  He 
gets  a  grooming  then;  he  gets  well  fed  and  well  rubbed 
and  the  cactus  burrs  and  the  stable  accumulations  are 
only  scenery  when  Panchito's  on  parade.  He  removed 
the  racing  plates  you  put  on  Panchito  and  substituted 
heavy  work  shoes,  but — Panchito  will  go  to  the  post 
with  racing  plates.  I  think  we  had  better  put  a  bet 
down  on  him." 

"I  wouldn't  bet  tin  money  on  him,"  Danny  Leighton 
warned.  "He  can  outrun  anything  in  that  field,  even 
if  he  has  broken  training  a  little,  but  those  wise  little 
jockeys  on  the  other  horses  will  never  let  him  win. 
They'll  pocket  him  and  keep  him  there." 

"They'll  not !"  Kay's  voice  rose  sharply.  "Panchito 
will  be  off  first,  no  matter  what  position  he  draws,  and 
Don  Mike's  orders  to  Allesandro  will  be  to  keep  him  in 
front.  But  you  are  not  to  bet  on  him,  father." 

"Why  not?     Of  course  I  shall  bet  on  him." 

"You  know  very  well,  Dad,  that  there  are  no  book 
makers  of  Tia  Juana  to  make  the  odds.  The  Paris  Mu- 
tuel  system  obtains  here  and  the  public  makes  the  odds. 
Consequently  the  more  money  bet  on  Panchito  the  lower 
will  be  his  price.  I'm  certain  Don  Mike  will  bet  every 
dollar  he  has  in  the  world  on  Panchito,  but  he  will  bet 
it,  through  trusted  agents,  in  pool-rooms  all  over  the 
country.  The  closing  price  here  should  be  such  that 
the  pool-rooms  should  pay  Don  Mike  not  less  than 
fifteen  to  one." 

"So  you've  been  his  confidante,  have  you?"  Parker 
scrutinized  his  daughter  quizzically. 


346  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"He  had  to  take  somebody  into  his  confidence  in 
order  to  have  his  plans  protected,"  she  confessed  blush- 
ingly. 

"Quite  so !  Somebody  with  a  deal  of  influence,"  Mrs. 
Parker  interjected.  "John,  this  is  simply  delicious. 
That  rascal  of  a  Don  Miguel  has  reverted  to  type.  He 
has  put  aside  his  Celtic  and  Gaelic  blood  and  turned 
Mexican.  He  tells  people  the  truth  about  his  horse 
and  a  reporter  with  a  sense  of  humor  has  advertised 
these  truths  by  writing  a  funny  story  about  him  and 
Panchito  and  the  Indian  imp." 

"They'll  have  him  up  in  the  judge's  stand  for  an 
explanation  five  minutes  after  the  race  is  won,"  Danny 
Leighton  declared.  "Panchito  will  be  under  suspicion 
of  being  a  ringer  and  the  payment  of  bets  will  be  held 
up." 

"In  which  case,  dad,"  Kay  reminded  him  demurely, 
"you  and  Mr.  Leighton  will  be  furnished  with  an  excel 
lent  opportunity  to  prove  yourselves  heroes.  Both  of 
you  will  go  to  the  judge's  stand  immediately  and  vouch 
for  Don  Mike  and  Panchito.  If  you  do  not  I  shall — 
and  I  fancy  John  Parker's  daughter's  testimony  will 
be  given  some  consideration,  Mr.  John  Parker  being 
very  well  known  to  every  racing  judge  in  America." 

"There  are  days,"  murmured  John  Parker  sadly, 
"when  I  find  it  impossible  to  lay  up  a  cent.  I  have  nur 
tured  a  serpent  in  my  bosom." 

"Tush !  There  are  no  snakes  in  Ireland,"  his  humor 
ous  wife  reminded  him.  "What  if  Don  Mike  has  hoisted 
you  on  your  own  petard  ?  Few  men  have  done  as  much," 
and  she  pinched  his  arm  lovingly. 


CHAPTER 

FOUR  days  before  Thanksgiving  Brother  Anthony 
returned  from  El  Toro  with  Father  Dominic's 
little  automobile  purring  as  it  had  not  purred  for  many 
a  day,  for  expert  mechanics  had  given  the  little  car  a 
thorough  overhauling  and  equipped  it  with  new  tires 
and  brake  lining  at  the  expense  of  Miguel  Farrel. 
Father  Dominic  looked  the  rejuvenated  ruin  over  with 
prideful  eyes  and  his  saintly  old  face  puckered  in  a 
smile. 

"Brother  Anthony,"  he  declared  to  that  mildly 
crack-brained  person,  "that  little  conveyance  has  been 
responsible  for  many  a  furious  exhibition  of  temper  on 
your  part.  But  God  is  good.  He  will  forgive  you, 
and  has  He  not  proved  it  by  moving  our  dear  Don  Mike 
to  save  you  from  the  plague  of  repairing  it  for  many 
months  to  come?" 

Brother  Anthony,  whose  sense  of  humor,  had  he  ever 
possessed  one,  had  long  since  been  ruined  in  his  battles 
with  Father  Dominic's  automobile,  raised  a  dour  face. 

"Speaking  of  Don  Miguel,  I  am  informed  that  our 
young  Don  Miguel  has  gone  to  Baja  California,  there 
to  race  Pancliito  publicly  for  a  purse  of  ten  thousand 
dollars  gold.  I  would,  Father  Dominic,  that  I  might 
see  that  race." 

Father  Dominic  laid  his  hand  on  poor  Brother  An 
thony's  shoulder.  "Because  you  have  suffered  for 

347 


648  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

righteousness'  sake,  Brother  Anthony,  your  wish  shall 
be  granted.  Tomorrow  you  shall  drive  Pablo  and  Caro 
lina  and  me  to  Tia  Juana  in  Baja  California  to  see  Pan- 
chito  race  on  the  afternoon  of  Thanksgiving  Day.  We 
will  attend  mass  in  San  Diego  in  the  morning  and  pray 
for  victory  for  him  and  his  glorious  young  master." 

Big  tears  stood  in  Brother  Anthony's  eyes.  At  last ! 
At  last!  Poor  Brother  Anthony  was  a  human  being, 
albeit  his  reason  tottered  on  its  throne  at  certain  times 
of  the  moon.  He  did  love  race-horses  and  horse-races, 
and  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  had  been  trying  to 
forget  them  in  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  garden  of  the 
Mission  de  la  Madre  Dolorosa. 

"Our  Don  Mike  has  made  this  possible?"  he  quavered. 

Father  Dominic  nodded. 

"God  will  pay  him,"  murmured  Brother  Anthony,  and 
hastened  away  to  the  chapelto  remind  the  Almighty 
of  the  debt. 

Against  the  journey  to  Baja  California,  Carolina 
had  baked  a  tremendous  pot  of  brown  beans  and  fried 
a  hundred  tortillas.  Pablo  had  added  some  twenty 
pounds  of  jerked  meat  and  chilli  peppers,  a  tarpaulin 
Don  Mike  had  formerly  used  when  camping,  and  a  roll 
of  bedding;  and  when  Brother  Anthony  called  for  them 
at  daylight  the  following  morning,  both  were  up  and 
arrayed  in  their  Sunday  clothes  and  gayest  colors.  In 
an  empty  tobacco  sack,  worn  like  an  amulet  around  her 
fat  neck  and  resting  on  her  bosom,  Carolina  carried 
some  twenty-eight  dollars  earned  as  a  laundress  to  Kay 
and  her  mother;  while  in  the  pocket  of  Pablo's  new- 
corduroy  breeches  reposed  the  two  hundred-dollar  bills 
given  him  by  the  altogether  inexplicable  Senor  Parker. 
Knowing  Brother  Anthony  to  be  absolutely  penniless 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  349 

(for  he  had  taken  the  vow  of  poverty)  Pablo  suffered 
keenly  in  the  realization  that  Panchito,  the  pride  of 
El  Palomar,  was  to  run  in  the  greatest  horse  race 
known  to  man,  with  not  a  centavo  of  Brother  Anthony's 
money  bet  on  the  result.  Pablo  knew  better  than  to 
take  Father  Dominic  into  his  confidence  when  the  latter 
joined  them  at  the  Mission,  but  by  the  time  they  had 
reached  El  Toro,  he  had  solved  the  riddle.  He  changed 
one  of  his  hundred  dollar  bills,  made  up  a  little  roU 
of  ten  two-dollar  bills  and  slipped  it  in  the  pocket  of 
the  brown  habit  where  he  knew  Brother  Anthony  kept 
his  cigarette  papers  and  tobacco. 

At  Ventura,  when  they  stopped  at  a  garage  to  take 
on  oil  and  gasoline,  Brother  Anthony  showed  Pablo  the 
roll  of  bills,  amounting  to  twenty  dollars,  and  ascribed 
his  possession  of  them  to  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  divine  miracle.  Pablo  agreed  with  him.  He  also 
noticed  that  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  Brother 
Anthony  made  no  mention  of  this  miracle  to  his  su 
perior,  Father  Dominic. 

At  about  two  o'clock  on  Thanksgiving  Day  the  pil 
grims  from  the  San  Gregorio  sputtered  up  to  the  en 
trance  of  the  Lower  California  Jockey  Club  at  Tia 
Juana,  parked,  and  approached  the  entrance.  They 
were  hesitant,  awed  by  the  scenes  around  them.  Father 
Dominic's  rusty  brown  habit  and  his  shovel  hat  con 
stituted  a  novel  sight  in  these  worldly  precincts,  and 
the  old  Fedora  hat  worn  by  Brother  Anthony  was  the 
subject  of  many  a  sly  nudge  and  smile.  Pablo  and 
Carolina,  being  typical  of  the  country,  passed  un 
noticed. 

Father  Dominic  had  approached  the  gateman  and  in 


350  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

his  gentle  old  voice  had  inquired  the  price  of  admit 
tance.  It  was  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents !  Scandalous ! 
He  was  about  to  beat  the  gatekeeper  down ;  surely  the 
management  had  special  rates  for  prelates 

A  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder  and  Don  Miguel  Jose 
Maria  Federico  Noriaga  Farrel  was  gazing  down  at 
him  with  beaming  eyes. 

"Perhaps,  Father  Dominic,"  he  suggested  in  Spanish 
and  employing  the  old-fashioned  courtly  tone  of  the 
liaciendado,  "you  will  permit  me  the  great  honor  of 
entertaining  you."  And  he  dropped  a  ten-dollar  bill 
in  the  cash  box  and  ushered  the  four  San  Gregorianos 
through  the  turn-stile. 

"My  son,  my  son,"  murmured  Father  Dominic. 
"What  means  this  'unaccustomed  dress?  One  would 
think  you  dwelt  in  the  City  of  Mexico.  You  are  un 
shaven — -you  resemble  a  loafer  in  cantinas.  That  som 
brero  is,  perhaps,  fit  for  a  bandit  like  Pancho  Villa,  but, 
my  son,  you  are  an  American  gentleman.  Your  beloved 
grandfather  and  your  equally  beloved  father  never  as 
sumed  the  dress  of  our  people " 

"Hush !  I'm  a  wild  and  woolly  Mexican  sport  for  a 
day,  padre.  Say  nothing  and  bid  the  others  be  silent 
and  make  no  comment.  Come  with  me  to  the  grand 
stand,  all  of  you,  and  look  at  the  races.  Panchito  will 
not  appear  until  the  fifth  race." 

Father  Dominic  bent  upon  Brother  Anthony  a  glance 
which  had  the  effect  of  propelling  the  brother  out  of 
earshot,  whereupon  the  old  friar  took  his  young  friend 
by  the  arm  and  lifted  his  seamed,  sweet  old  face  toward 
him  with  all  the  insouciance  of  a  child. 

"Miguel,"  he  whispered,  "I'm  in  the  throes  of  tempta 
tion.  I  told  you  of  the  thousand  dollars  which  the 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  351 

Senora  Parker,  in  a  moment  of  that  great-heartedness 
which  distinguishes  her  (what  a  triumph,  could  I  but 
baptize  her  in  our  faith!)  forced  Sefior  Parker  to  pre 
sent  to  me.  I  contemplate  using  it  toward  the  needed 
•repairs  to  the  roof  of  our  Mission.  These  repairs  will 
cost  at  least  three  thousand  dollars,  and  the  devil  has 
whispered  to  me " 

"Say  no  more  about  it,  but  bet  the  money,"  said 
Miguel.  "Be  a  sport,  Father  Dominic,  for  the  oppor 
tunity  will  never  occur  again.  Before  the  sun  shall 
set  this  day,  your  one  thousand  will  have  grown  to  ten. 
Even  if  Panchito  should  lose,  I  will  guarantee  you  the 
return  of  your  money. 

Father  Dominic  trembled.  "Ah,  my  son,  I  feel  like 
a  little  old  devil,"  he  quavered,  but — he  protested  no 
more.  When  Don  Mike  settled  him  in  a  seat  in  the 
grand-stand,  Father  Dominic  whispered  wistfully,  "God 
will  not  hold  this  worldliness  against  me,  Miguel.  I  feel 
I  am  here  on  His  business,  for  is  not  Panchito  running 
for  a  new  roof  for  our  beloved  Mission?  I  will  pray 
for  victory." 

"Now  you  are  demonstrating  your  sound  common 
sense,"  Don  Mike  assured  him.  His  right  hand  closed 
over  the  roll  of  bills  Father  Dominic  surreptitiously 
slipped  him.  Scarcely  had  he  transferred  the  Restora 
tion  Fund  to  his  trousers'  pocket  when  Brother  An 
thony  nudged  him  and  slipped  a  tiny  roll  into  Don 
Miguel's  left  hand,  accompanying  the  secret  transfer 
with  a  wink  that  was  almost  a  sermon. 

"What  news,  Don  Miguel?"  Pablo  ventured  pres 
ently. 

"We  will  win,  Pablo." 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

"Valgame  dios!  I  will  wager  my  fortune  on  Panchito. 
Here  it  is,  Don  Miguel — one  hundred  and  eighty  dol 
lars.  I  know  not  the  ways  of  these  Gringo  races,  but  if 
the  stakeholder  be  an  honest  man  and  known  person 
ally  to  you,  I  will  be  your  debtor  forever  if  you  will 
graciously  consent  to  attend  to  this  detail  for  me." 

"With  pleasure,  Pablo." 

Carolina  drew  her  soiled  little  tobacco  bag  from  her 
bosom,  bit  the  string  in  two  and  handed  bag  and  con 
tents  to  her  master,  who  nodded  and  thrust  it  in  his 
pocket. 

Two  tiers  up  and  directly  in  back  of  Don  Miguel  and 
his  guests,  two  men  glanced  meaningly  at  each  other. 

"Did  you  twig  that?"  one  of  them  whispered.  "That 
crazy  Greaser  is  a  local  favorite,  wherever  he  comes 
from.  Those  two  monks  and  that  cholo  and  his  squaw 
are  giving  him  every  dollar  they  possess  to  bet  on  this 
quarter  horse  entered  in  a  long  race,  and  I'll  bet  five 
thousand  dollars  he'll  drop  it  into  that  machine,  little 
realizing  that  every  dollar  he  bets  on  his  horse  here  will 
depress  the  odds  proportionately." 

"It's  a  shame,  Joe,  to  see  all  that  good  money  drop 
ping  into  the  maw  of  those  Paris  Mutuel  sharks.  Joe, 
we  ought  to  be  kicked  if  we  allow  it." 

"Can  you  speak  Spanish?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"Well,  let's  get  an  interpreter.  That  Tia  Juana 
policeman  yonder  will  do." 

"All  right.     I'll  split  the  pot  with  you,  old  timer." 

Directly  after  the  first  race  a  Mexican  policeman 
touched  Farrel  on  the  arm.  "Your  pardon,  senor,"  he 
murmured  politely,  "but  two  American  gentlemen  have 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  353 

asked  me  to  convey  to  you  a  message  of  importance. 
Will  the  senor  be  good  enough  to  step  down  to  the  bet 
ting  ring  with  me?" 

"With  the  utmost  delight,"  Don  Miguel  replied  in 
his  mother  tongue  and  followed  the  policeman,  who  ex 
plained  as  they  proceeded  toward  the  betting  ring  the 
nature  of  the  message. 

"These  two  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  "are  book 
makers.  Wrhile  book-makers  who  lay  their  own  odds 
are  not  permitted  to  operate  openly  and  with  the  ap 
proval  of  the  track  authorities,  there  are  a  number 
of  such  operating  quietly  here.  One  may  trust  them 
implicitly.  They  always  pay  their  losses — what  you 
call  true  blue  sports.  They  have  much  money  and  it  is 
their  business  in  life  to  take  bets.  These  two  gentlemen 
are  convinced  that  your  horse,  Panchito,  cannot  pos 
sibly  win  this  race  and  they  are  prepared  to  offer  you 
odds  of  ten  to  one  for  as  much  money  as  the  senor  cares 
to  bet.  They  will  not  move  from  your  side  until  the 
race  is  run  and  the  bet  decided.  The  odds  they  offer 
you  are  greater  than  you  can  secure  playing  your 
money  in  the  Mutuel." 

Don  Mike  halted  in  his  tracks.  "I  have  heard  of 
such  men.  I  observed  the  two  who  talked  with  you 
and  the  jefe  politico  assured  me  yesterday  that  they  are 
reliable  gentlemen.  I  am  prepared  to  trust  them.  Why 
not?  Should  they  attempt  to  escape  with  my  money 
when  Panchito  wins — as  win  he  will — I  would  quickly 
stop  those  fine  fellows."  He  tapped  his  left  side  under 
the  arm-pit,  and  while  the  policeman  was  too  lazy  and 
indifferent  to  feel  this  spot  himself,  he  assumed  that 
a  pistol  nestled  there. 

"I  will  myself  guard  your  bet,"  he  promised. 


354  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

They  had  reached  the  two  book-makers  and  the  po 
liceman  promptly  communicated  to  them  Don  Mike's 
ultimatum.  The  pair  exchanged  glances. 

"If  we  don't  take  this  lunatic's  money,"  one  of  them 
suggested  presently,  "some  other  brave  man  will.  I'm 
game." 

"It's  a  shame  to  take  it,  but — business  is  business," 
his  companion  laughed.  Then  to  the  policeman :  "How 
much  is  our  high-toned  Mexican  friend  betting  and 
what  odds  does  he  expect?" 

The  policeman  put  the  question.  The  high-toned 
Mexican  gentleman  bowed  elaborately  and  shrugged 
deprecatingly.  Such  a  little  bet!  Truly,  he  was 
ashamed,  but  the  market  for  steers  down  south  had  been 
none  too  good  lately,  and  as  for  hides,  one  could  not 
give  them  away.  The  American  gentlemen  would  think 
him  a  very  poor  gambler,  indeed,  but  twelve  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  dollars  was  his  limit,  at  odds  of  ten 
to  one.  If  they  did  not  care  to  trifle  with  such  a  paltry 
bet,  he  could  not  blame  them,  but 

"Holy  Mackerel.  Ten  to  one.  Joe,  this  is  like  shoot 
ing  fish  on  a  hillside.  I'll  take  half  of  it." 

They  used  their  cards  to  register  the  bet  and  handed 

"I'll  take  what's  left." 

the  memorandum  to  Don  Mike,  who  showed  his  mag 
nificent  white  teeth  in  his  most  engaging  smile,  bowed, 
and  insisted  upon  shaking  hands  with  them  both,  after 
which  the  quartet  sauntered  back  to  the  grand-stand 
and  sat  down  among  the  old  shepherd  and  his  flock. 

As  the  bugle  called  out  the  horses  for  the  handicap, 
Father  Dominic  ceased  praying  and  craned  forward. 
There  were  ten  horses  in  the  race,  and  the  old  priest's 
faded  eyes  popped  with  wonder  and  delight  as  the  sleek, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  355 

beautiful  thoroughbreds  pranced  out  of  the  paddock 
and  passed  in  single  file  in  front  of  the  grand-stand. 
The  fifth  horse  in  the  parade  was  Panchito — and  some 
body  had  cleaned  him  up,  for  his  satiny  skin  glowed 
in  the  semi-tropical  sun.  All  the  other  horses  in  the 
race  had  ribbons  interlaced  in  their  manes  and  tails, 
but  Panchito  was  barren  of  adornment. 

"Well,  Don  Quixote  has  had  him  groomed  and  they've 
combed  the  cactus  burrs  out  of  his  mane  and  tail,  at 
any  rate.  He'd  be  a  beautiful  animal  if  he  was  dolled 
up  like  the  others,"  the  book-maker,  Joe,  declared. 

"Got  racing  plates  on  to-day,  and  that  cholo  kid 
sits  him  like  he  intended  to  ride  him,"  his  companion 
added.  "Joe,  I  have  a  suspicion  that  nag  is  a  ringer. 
He  looks  like  a  champion" 

"If  he  wins  we'll  know  he's  a  ringer,"  Joe  replied  com 
placently.  "We'll  register  a  protest  at  once.  Of 
course,  the  horse  is  royally  bred,  but  he  hasn't  been 
trained,  he's  never  been  on  a  track  before  and  even  if 
he  has  speed,  both  early  and  late,  he'll  probably  be 
left  at  the  post.  He's  carrying  one  hundred  and 
eighteen  pounds  and  a  green  cholo  kid  has  the  leg  up. 
No  chance,  I  tell  you.  Forget  it." 

Don  Mike,  returning  from  the  paddock  after  sad 
dling  Panchito  and  giving  Allesandro  his  final  instruc 
tions,  sat  majestically  in  his  seat,  but  Father  Dominic, 
Brother  Anthony,  Pablo  and  Carolina  paid  vociferous 
tribute  to  their  favorite  and  the  little  lad  who  rode 
him.  Allesandro's  swarthy  hands  and  face  were  sharply 
outlined  against  a  plain  white  jockey  suit;  somebody 
had  loaned  him  a  pair  of  riding  boots  and  a  cap  of  red, 
white  and  blue  silk.  This  much  had  Don  Mike  sacrificed 
for  convention,  but  not  the  willow  switch.  Allesandro 


356  THE  PRIDE  OF  P  ALOMAR 

waved  it  at  his  master  and  his  grandparents  as  he  filed 
past. 

Pablo  stood  up  and  roared  in  English:  "Kai!  Al- 
lesandro !  Eef  you  don'  win  those  race  you  gran'f  ather 
hee's  goin'  cut  you  throat  sure.  I  look  to  you  all  the 
time,  muchacho.  You  keep  the  mind  on  the  bus-i-ness. 
You  hear,  Allesandro  mio?" 

Allesandro  nodded,  the  crowd  laughed  and  the  horses 
went  to  the  post.  They  were  at  the  post  a  minute,  but 
got  away  to  a  perfect  start. 

"Sancho  Panza  leads  on  Panchito !"  the  book-maker, 
Joe,  declared  as  the  field  swept  past  the  grand-stand. 
He  was  following  the  flying  horses  through  his  racing 
glasses.  "Quarter  horse,"  he  informed  his  companion. 
"Beat  the  gate  like  a  shot  out  of  a  gun.  King  Agrippa, 
the  favorite,  second  by  two  lengths,  Sir  Galahad  third. 
At  the  quarter!  Panchito  leads  by  half  a  length,  Sir 
Galahad  second,  King  Agrippa  third!  At  the  half! 
Sir  Galahad  first,  Panchito  second,  King  Agrippa 
third !  At  the  three-quarter  pole !  King  Agrippa  first, 
Panchito  second,  Polly  P.  third.  Galahad's  out  of  it. 
Polly  P's  making  her  spurt,  but  she  can't  last.  Into 
the  stretch  with  Panchito  on  the  rail  and  coming  like 
he'd  been  sent  for  and  delayed.  Oh,  Lord,  Jim,  that's  a 
horse — and  we  thought  he  was  a  goat !  Look  at  him 
come !  He's  an  open  length  in  front  of  Agrippa  and 
the  cholo  hasn't  used  his  willow  switch.  Jim,  we're  sent 
to  the  cleaner's " 

It  was  a  Mexican  race-track,  but  the  audience  was 
American  and  it  is  the  habit  of  Americans  to  cheer  a 
winner,  regardless  of  how  they  have  bet  their  money. 
A  great  sigh  went  up  from  the  big  holiday  crowd. 
Then,  "Panchito !  Come  on,  you  Panchito !  Come  on, 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  357 

Agrippa !  Ride  him,  boy,  ride  him  I"  A  long,  hoarse 
howl  that  carried  with  it  the  hint  of  sobs. 

At  the  paddock  the  gallant  King  Agrippa  gave  of 
the  last  and  the  best  that  was  in  him  and  closed  the 
gap  in  a  dozen  furious  jumps  until,  as  the  field  swept 
past  the  grand-stand,  Panchito  and  King  Agrippa  were 
for  a  few  seconds  on  such  even  terms  that  a  sudden  hush 
fell  on  the  race-mad  crowd.  Would  this  be  a  dead  heat? 
Would  this  unknown  Panchito,  fresh  from  the  cattle 
ranges,  divide  first  money  with  the  favorite?" 

The  silence  was  broken  by  a  terrible  cry  from  Pablo 
Art  el  an. 

"Allesandro  !  I  cut  your  throat !" 

Whether  Allesandro  heard  the  warning  or  whether 
he  had  decided  that  affairs  had  assumed  a  dangerous 
pass,  matters  not.  He  rose  a  trifle  in  his  saddle,  leaned 
far  out  on  Panchito's  withers  and  delivered  himself  of 
a  tribal  yell.  It  was  a  cry  meant  for  Panchito,  and  evi 
dently  Panchito  understood,  for  he  responded  with  the 
only  answer  a  gallant  race-horse  has  for  such  occasions. 
A  hundred  feet  from  the  wire  King  Agrippa's  wide-flung 
j  nostrils  were  at  Panchito's  saddle  girth ;  under  the  stim 
ulus  of  a  rain  of  blows  he  closed  the  gap  again,  only  to 
drop  back  and  finish  with  daylight  showing  between  his 
head  and  Panchito's  flowing  tail. 

Father  Dominic  stood  gazing  down  the  track.  He 
was  trembling  violently.  Brother  Anthony  turned  lack 
luster  eyes  toward  Farrel. 

"You  win,  Brother  Anthony,"  Don  Mike  said  quietly. 

"How  good  is  God,"  murmured  Brother  Anthony. 
"He  has  granted  rne  a  joy  altogether  beyond  my  de 
serts.  And  the  joy  is  sufficient.  The  money  will  buy 


358  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

a  few  shingles  for  our  roof."  He  slumped  down  in  his 
seat  and  wiped  away  great  tears. 

Pablo  waited  not  for  congratulations  or  exultations, 
but  scrambled  down  through  the  grand-stand  to  the 
railing,  climbed  over  it  and  dropped  down  into  the 
track,  along  which  he  jogged  until  he  met  Allesandro 
galloping  slowly  back  with  Panchito.  "Little  treasure 
of  the  world,"  he  cried  to  the  boy,  "I  am  happy  that 
I  do  not  have  to  cut  your  throat,"  and  he  lifted  Alles 
andro  out  of  the  saddle  and  pressed  him  to  his  heart. 
That  was  the  faint  strain  of  Catalonian  blood  in  Pablo. 

Up  in  the  grand-stand  Carolina,  in  her  great  excite 
ment,  forgot  that  she  was  Parrel's  cook.  When  he  was1 
a  baby  she  had  nursed  him  and  she  loved  him  for  that. 
So  she  waddled  3own  to  him  with  beaming  eyes  —  anp 
he  patted  her  cheek. 

"Father  Dominic,"  Don  Mike  called  to  the  old  friar, 
"your  Mission  Restoration  Fund  has  been  increased 
ten  thousand  dollars." 

"So?"  the  gentle  old  man  echoed.  "Behold,  Miguel, 
the  goodness  of  God.  He  willed  that  Panchito  should 
save  for  you  from  the  heathen  one  little  portion  o£ 
our  dear  land;  He  was  pleased  to  answer  my  prayers 
of  fifty  years  that  I  be  permitted  to  live  until  I  had 
restored  the  Mission  of  our  Mother  of  Sorrows."  He 
closed  his  eyes.  "So  many  long  years  the  priest,"  he 
murmured,  "so  many  long  years!  And  I  am  base 
enough  to  be  happy  in  worldly  pleasures.  I  am  still 
a  little  old  devil." 

Don  Mike  turned  to  the  stunned  book-makers.  "For 
some  reason  best  known  to  yourselves,"  he  addressed 
them  in  English,  bowing  graciously,  "you  two  gentle 
men  have  seen  fit  to  do  business  with  me  through  this  ex- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  359 

cellent  representative  of  the  civil  authority  of  Tia 
Juana.  We  will  dispense  with  his  services,  if  you  have 
no  objection.  Here,  my  good  fellow,"  he  added,  and 
handed  the  policeman  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

"You're  not  a  Mexican.  You're  an  American,"  the 
book-maker  Joe  cried  accusingly,  "although  you  brag 
ged  like  a  Mexican." 

"Quite  right.  I  never  claimed  to  be  a  Mexican,  how 
ever.  I  heard  about  this  Thanksgiving  Handicap,  and 
it  seemed  such  a  splendid  opportunity  to  pick  up  a  few 
thousand  dollars  that  I  entered  my  horse.  I  have  com 
plied  with  all  the  rules.  This  race  was  open  to  four- 
year-olds  and  up,  regardless  of  whether  they  had  been 
entered  in  a  race  previously  or  had  won  or  lost  a  race. 
Panchito's  registration  will  bear  investigation ;  so  will 
his  history.  My  jockey  rode  under  an  apprentice 
license.  May  I  trouble  you  for  a  settlement,  gentle 
men?" 

"But  your  horse  is  registered  under  a  Mexican's 
name,  as  owner." 

"My  name  is  Miguel  Jose  Maria  Federico  Noriaga 
Farrel." 

"We'll  see  the  judges  first,  Senor  Farrel." 

"By  all  means." 

"You  bet  we  will.  The  judges  smell  a  rat,  already. 
The  winning  numbers  haven't  been  posted  yet." 

As  Don  Mike  and  his  retinue  passed  the  Parker  box, 
John  Parker  and  Danny  Leighton  fell  in  behind  them 
and  followed  to  the  judges'  stand.  Five  minutes  later 
the  anxious  crowd  saw  Panchito's  number  go  up  as  the 
winner.  Don  Mike's  frank  explanation  that  he  had  de 
ceived  nobody,  but  had,  by  refraining  from  doing  things 
in  the  usual  manner,  induced  the  public  to  deceive  itself 


360  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

and  refrain  from  betting  on  Panchito,  could  not  be 
gainsaid — particularly  when  an  inspection  of  the  rec 
ords  at  the  betting  ring  proved  that  not  a  dollar  had 
been  wagered  on  Panchito. 

"You  played  the  books  throughout  the  country,  Mr. 
Farrel?"  one  of  the  judges  asked. 

Don  Mike  smiled  knowingly.  "I  admit  nothing,"  he 
replied. 

The  testimony  of  Parker  and  Danny  Leighton  was 
scarcely  needed  to  convince  the  judges  that  nothing 
illegal  had  been  perpetrated.  When  Don  Mike  had  col 
lected  his  share  of  the  purse  and  the  book-makers,  con 
vinced  that  they  had  been  out-generaled  and  not  swin 
dled,  had  issued  checks  for  their  losses  and  departed, 
smiling,  John  Parker  drew  Farrel  aside. 

"Son,"  he  demanded,  "  did  you  spoil  the  Egyptians 
and  put  over  a  Roman  holiday?" 

Again  Don  Mike  smiled  his  enigmatic  smile.  "Well," 
he  admitted,  "I'm  ready  to  do  a  little  mortgage  lifting." 

"I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart.  For  heaven's 
sake,  take  up  your  mortgage  immediately.  I  do  not 
wish  to  acquire  your  ranch — that  way.  I  have  never 
wished  to,  but  if  that  droll  scoundrel,  Bill  Conway, 
hadn't  managed  to  dig  up  unlimited  backing  to  build 
that  dam  despite  me,  and  if  Panchito  hadn't  cinched 
your  case  for  you  to-day,  I  would  have  had  no  mercy 
on  you.  But  I'm  glad  you  won.  You  have  a  head  and 
you  use  it ;  you  possess  the  power  of  decision,  of  initia 
tive,  you're  a  sporting,  kindly  young  gentleman  and  I 
count  it  a  privilege  to  have  known  you."  He  thrust  out 
his  hand  and  Don  Mike  shook  it  heartily. 

"Of  course,  sir,"  he  told  Parker,  "King  Agrippa  is 
a  good  horse,  but  nobody  would  ever  think  of  entering 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  361 

him  in  a  real  classic.  I  told  Allesandro  to  be  careful 
not  to  beat  him  too  far.  The  time  was  nothing  remark 
able  and  I  do  not  think  I  have  spoiled  your  opportunity 
for  winning  with  him  in  the  Derby." 

"I  noticed  that.  Thank  you.  And  you'll  loan  him 
to  me  to  beat  that  old  scoundrel  I  told  you  about?" 

"You'll  have  to  arrange  that  matter  with  your 
daughter,  sir.  I  have  raced  my  first  and  my  last  race 
for  anything  save  the  sport  of  a  horse-race,  and  I 
am  now  about  to  present  Panchito  to  Miss  Kay." 

"Present  him?  Why,  you  star-spangled  idiot,  I 
offered  you  fifteen  thousand  dollars  for  him  and  you 
knew  then  I  would  have  gone  to  fifty  thousand." 

Don  Mike  laid  a  patronizing  hand  on  John  Parker's 
shoulder.  "Old  settler,  you're  buying  Panchito  and 
you're  paying  a  heavier  price  than  you  realize,  only, 
like  the  overcoat  in  the  traveling  salesman's  expense  ac 
count,  the  item  isn't  apparent.  I'm  going  to  sell  you 
a  dam,  the  entire  Agua  Caliente  Basin  and  watershed 
riparian  rights,  a  site  for  a  power  station  and  a  right 
of  way  for  power  transmission  lines  over  my  ranch. 
In  return,  you're  going  to  agree  to  furnish  me  with 
sufficient  water  from  your  dam,  in  perpetuity,  to  irri 
gate  every  acre  of  the  San  Gregorio  Valley." 

John  Parker  could  only  stare,  amazed.  "On  one 
condition,  Miguel,"  he  replied  presently.  "Not  an 
acre  of  the  farm  lands  of  the  San  Gregorio  shall  ever 
be  sold,  without  a  proviso  in  the  deed  that  it  shall  never 
be  sold  or  leased  to  any  alien  ineligible  to  citizenship." 

"Oh,  ho!    So  you've  got  religion,  eh?" 

"I  have.  Pablo  dragged  it  into  the  yard  last  spring 
at  the  end  of  his  riata,  and  it  lies  buried  in  the  San 
Gregorio.  That  makes  the  San  Gregorio  consecrated 


362  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ground.  I  always  had  an  idea  I  was  a  pretty  fair 
American,  but  I  dare  say  there's  room  for  improve 
ment.  What  do  you  want  for  that  power  property?" 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea.  We'll  get  together  with 
experts  some  day  and  arrive  at  an  equitable  price. 

"Thank  you  son.  I'll  not  argue  with  you.  You've 
given  me  a  first-class  thrashing  and  the  man  who  can 
do  that  is  quite  a  fellow.  Nevertheless,  I  cannot  see 
now  where  I  erred  in  playing  the  game.  Mind  telling 
me,  boy?" 

"Not  at  all.  It  occurred  to  me — assistance  by  Bill 
Conway — that  this  property  must  be  of  vital  interest 
to  two  power  companies,  the  Central  California  Power 
Company  and  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation. 
Two  hypotheses  presented  themselves  for  consideration. 
First,  if  you  were  developing  the  property  personally, 
you  had  no  intention  of  operating  it  yourself. 
You  intended  to  sell  it.  Second,  you  were  not 
developing  it  personally,  but  as  the  agent  of  one  of  the 
two  power  companies  I  mentioned.  I  decided  that 
the  latter  was  the  best  hypothesis  upon  which  to  pro 
ceed.  You  are  a  multi-millionaire  trained  in  the  fine 
art  of  juggling  corporations.  In  all  probability  you 
approached  my  father  with  an  offer  to  buy  the  ranch 
and  he  declined.  He  was  old  and  he  was  sentimental, 
and  he  loved  me  and  would  not  sell  me  out  of  my  birth 
right.  You  had  to  have  that  ranch,  and  since  you 
couldn't  buy  it  you  decided  to  acquire  it  by  foreclosure. 
To  do  that,  however,  you  had  to  acquire  the  mortgage, 
and  in  order  to  acquire  the  mortgage  you  had  to  ac 
quire  a  controlling  interest  in  the  capital  stock  of  the 
First  National  Bank  of  El  Toro.  You  didn't  seem  to 
fit  into  the  small  town  banking  business ;  a  bank  with  a 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  363 

million    dollars    capital    is    small    change    to    you." 

"Proceed.  You're  on  the  target,  son,  and  something 
tells  me  you're  going  to  score  a  bull's-eye  in  a  minute." 

"When  you  had  acquired  the  mortgage  following 
such  patient  steps,  my  father  checkmated  you  by  mak 
ing  and  recording  a  deed  of  gift  of  the  ranch  to  md, 
subject  of  course  to  the  encumbrance.  The  war-time 
moratorium,  which  protected  men  in  the  military  or 
naval  service  from  civil  actions,  forced  you  to  sit  tight 
and  play  a  waiting  game.  Then  I  was  reported  killed 
in  action.  My  poor  father  was  in  a  quandary.  As  he 
viewed  it,  the  ranch  now  belonged  to  my  estate,  and  I 
had  died  intestate.  Probate  proceedings  dragging  over 
a  couple  of  years  were  now  necessary,  and  a  large  in 
heritance  tax  would  have  been  assessed  against  the 
estate.  My  father  broke  under  the  blow  and  you  took 
possession.  Then  I  returned — and  you  know  the  rest. 

"I  knew  you  were  powerful  enough  to  block  any  kind 
of  a  banking  loan  I  might  try  to  secure  and  I  was  des 
perate  until  Bill  Conway  managed  to  arrange  for  his 
financing.  Then,  of  course,  I  realized  my  power.  With 
the  dam  completed  before  the  redemption  period  should 
expire,  I  had  something  definite  and  tangible  to  offer  the 
competitor  of  the  power  company  in  which  you  might 
be  interested.  I  was  morally  certain  I  could  save  my 
ranch,  so  I  disabused  my  mind  of  worry." 

"Your  logical  conclusions  do  credit  to  your  intelli 
gence,  Miguel.  Proceed." 

"I  purchased,  through  my  attorney,  a  fat  little  block 
of  stock  in  each  company.  That  gave  me  entree  to  the 
company  books  and  records.  I  couldn't  pick  up  your 
trail  with  the  first  company  investigated — the  Central 
California — but  before  my  attorney  could  proceed  to 


364  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

Los  Angeles  and  investigate  the  list  of  stockholders  and 
directors  of  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation,  a 
stranger  appeared  at  my  attorney's  office  and  pro 
ceeded  to  make  overtures  for  the  purchase  of  the  Agua 
Caliente  property  on  behalf  of  an  unknown  client.  That 
man  was  in  conference  with  my  attorney  the  day  we 
all  motored  to  El  Toro  via  La  Questa  Valley,  and  the 
instant  I  poked  my  nose  inside  the  door  my  attorney 
advised  me — in  Spanish, — which  is  really  the  mother 
tongue  of  El  Toro — to  trail  his  visitor.  Out  in  the 
hall  I  met  my  dear  friend,  Don  Nicolas  Sandoval,  the 
sheriff  of  San  Marcos  County,  and  delegated  the  job 
to  him.  Don  Nicolas  trailed  this  stranger  to  the  First 
National  Bank  of  El  Toro  and  observed  him  in  con 
ference  with  the  vice-president;  from  the  First  Na 
tional  Bank  of  El  Toro  Don  Nicolas  shadowed  his 
man  to  the  office  of  the  president  of  the  South  Coast 
Power  Corporation,  in  Los  Angeles. 

"We  immediately  opened  negotiations  with  the  Cen 
tral  California  Power  Company  and  were  received  with 
open  arms.  But,  strange  to  relate,  we  heard  no  more 
from  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation.  Very 
strange,  indeed,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  my  attorney 
had  assured  their  representative  of  my  very  great  de 
sire  to  discuss  the  deal  if  and  when  an  offer  should 
be  made  me." 

John  Parker  was  smiling  broadly.  "Hot,  red  hot, 
son,"  he  assured  Farrel.  "Good  nose  for  a  long,  cold 
trail." 

"I  decided  to  smoke  you  out,  so  arbitrarily  I  ter 
minated  negotiations  with  the  Central  California  Power 
Company.  It  required  all  of  my  own  courage  and  some 
of  Bill  Conway's  to  do  it,  but — we  did  it.  Within  three 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  365 

days  our  Los  Angeles  friend  again  arrived  in  El  Toro 
and  submitted  an  offer  higher  than  the  one  made  us 
by  the  Central  California  Power  Company.  So  then  I 
decided  to  shadow  you,  the  president  of  the  South  Coast 
Power  Corporation,  and  the  president  of  the  Central 
California  Power  Company.  On  the  fifteenth  day  of 
October,  at  eight  o'clock,  p.  m.,  all  three  of  you  met 
in  the  office  of  your  attorney  in  El  Toro,  and  when  this 
was  reported  to  me,  I  sat  down  and  did  some  thinking, 
with  the  following  result : 

"The  backing  so  mysteriously  given  Bill  Conway  had 
you  worried.  You  abandoned  all  thought  of  securing 
the  ranch  by  foreclosure,  and  my  careless,  carefree, 
indifferent  attitude  confirmed  you  in  this.  Who,  but 
one  quite  certain  of  his  position,  would  waste  his  time 
watching  a  race-horse  trained?  I  knew  then  that  news 
of  my  overtures  to  the  Central  California  people  were 
immediately  reported  to  the  South  Coast  people.  Evi 
dently  you  had  a  spy  on  the  Central  California  payroll, 
or  else  you  and  your  associates  controlled  both  com 
panies.  This  last  hypothesis  seemed  reasonable,  in 
view  of  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation's  indiffer 
ence  when  it  seemed  that  I  might  do  business  with  the 
Central  California  people,  and  the  sudden  revival  of 
the  South  Coast  interest  when  it  appeared  that  negotia 
tions  with  the  Central  people  were  terminated.  But 
after  that  meeting  on  the  fifteenth  of  October,  my  at 
torney  couldn't  get  a  rise  out  of  either  corporation, 
so  I  concluded  that  one  had  swallowed  the  other,  or 
you  had  agreed  to  form  a  separate  corporation  to  de 
velop  and  handle  the  Agua  Caliente  plant,  if  and  when, 
no  matter  how,  the  ranch  should  come  into  your  pos 
session.  I  was  so  certain  you  and  your  fellow-conspir- 


366  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

ators  had  concluded  to  stand  pat  and  await  events  that 
I  haven't  been  sleeping  very  well  ever  since,  although  not 
once  did  I  abandon  my  confident  pose. 

"My  position  was  very  trying.  Even  with  the  dam 
completed,  your  power  in  financial  circles  might  be  such 
that  you  could  block  a  new  loan  or  a  sale  of  the  prop 
erty,  although  the  completion  of  the  dam  would  add 
a  value  of  millions  to  the  property  and  make  it  a  very 
attractive  investment  to  a  great  many  people.  I  felt 
that  I  could  save  myself  if  I  had  time,  but  I  might  not 
have  time  before  the  redemption  period  should  expire. 
I'd  have  to  lift  that  mortgage  before  I  could  smoke 
you  three  foxes  out  of  your  hole  and  force  you  to 
reopen  negotiations.  Well,  the  only  chance  I  had 
for  accomplishing  that  was  a  long  one — Panchito, 
backed  by  every  dollar  I  could  spare,  in  the  Thanksgiv 
ing  Handicap.  I  took  that  chance.  I  won.  Tag! 
You're  It." 

"Yes,  you've  won,  Miguel.  Personally,  it  hurt  me 
cruelly  to  do  the  things  I  did,  but  I  was  irrevocably  tied 
up  with  the  others.  I  hoped — I  almost  prayed — that 
the  unknown  who  was  financing  Bill  Conway,  in  order 
to  render  your  property  valuable  and  of  quick  sale,  to 
save  your  equity,  might  also  give  you  a  loan  and  enable 
you  to  eliminate  me.  Then  my  companions  in  iniquity 
would  be  forced  to  abandon  their  waiting  game  and  deal 
with  you.  You  are  right,  Miguel.  That  waiting  game 
might  have  been  fatal  to  you." 

"It  would  have  been  fatal  to  me,  sir.'* 
"Wouldn't  Conway's  friend  come  to  your  rescue?" 
"I  am  not  informed  as  to  the  financial  resources  of 
Bill  Conway's  friend  and,  officially,  I  am  not  supposed 
to  be  aware  of  that  person's  identity.     Conway  refused 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  367 

to  inform  me.  I  feel  assured,  however,  that  if  it  were 
at  all  possible  for  this  person  to  save  me,  I  would 
have  been  saved.  However,  even  to  save  my  ranch,  I 
could  not  afford  to  suggest  or  request  such  action." 

"Why?" 

"Matter  of  pride.  It  would  have  meant  the  viola 
tion  of  my  code  in  such  matters." 

"Ah,  I  apprehend.  A  woman,  eh?  That  dashing 
Sepulvida  girl?" 

"Her  mother  would  have  saved  me — for  old  sake's 
sake,  but — I  would  have  been  expected  to  secure  her 
investment  with  collateral  in  the  shape  of  a  six-dollar 
wedding  ring." 

"So  the  old  lady  wanted  you  for  a  son-in-law,  eh? 
Smart  woman.  She  has  a  long,  sagacious  nose.  So 
she  proceeded,  unknown  to  you,  to  finance  old  Conway, 
eh?" 

"No,  she  did  not.    Another  lady  did." 

"What  a  devil  you  are  with  the  women !  Marvelous 
— for  one  who  doesn't  pay  the  slightest  attention  to 
any  of  them.  May  I  ask  if  you  are  going  to — ah — 
marry  the  other  lady? 

"Well,  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  propose 
to  her  before  Panchito  reached  the  wire  first,  but  now 
that  I  am  my  own  man  again  and  able  to  match  her, 
dollar  for  dollar,  it  may  be  that  I  shall  consider  an 
alliance,  provided  the  lady  is  gracious  enough  to  regard 
me  with  favor." 

"I  wish  you  luck,"  John  Parker  replied  coldly.  "Let 
us  join  the  ladies." 

Three  days  later,  in  El  Toro,  Don  Mike  and  his  at 
torney  met  in  conference  with  John  Parker  and  his 
associates  in  the  office  of  the  latter's  attorney  and  com- 


368  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

pleted  the  sale  of  the  Agua  Caliente  property  to  a  cor 
poration  formed  by  a  merger  of  the  Central  California 
Power  Company  and  the  South  Coast  Power  Corpora 
tion.  A  release  of  mortgage  was  handed  Miguel  Farrel 
as  part  payment,  the  remainder  being  in  bonds  of  the 
South  Coast  Power  Corporation,  to  the  extent  of  two 
million  dollars.  In  return,  Farrel  delivered  a  deed  to 
the  Agua  Caliente  property  and  right  of  way  and  a 
dismissal,  by  Bill  Conway,  of  his  suit  for  damages 
against  John  Parker,  in  return  for  which  John  Parker 
presented  Farrel  an  agreement  to  reimburse  Bill  Con- 
way  of  all  moneys  expended  by  him  and  permit  him  to 
complete  the  original  contract  for  the  dam. 

"Well,  that  straightens  out  our  muchly  involved  af 
fairs,"  John  Parker  declared.  "Farrel,  you've  gotten 
back  your  ranch,  with  the  exception  of  the  Agua 
Caliente  Basin,  which  wasn't  worth  a  hoot  to  you  any 
way,  you  have  two  million  dollars  in  good  sound  bonds 
and  all  the  money  you  won  on  Panchito.  By  the  way. 
if  I  may  be  pardoned  for  my  curiosity,  how  much  money 
did  you  actually  win  that  day?" 

Don  Mike  smiled,  reread  his  release  of  mortgage, 
gathered  up  his  bundle  of  bonds,  backed  to  the  door, 
opened  it  and  stood  there,  paused  for  flight. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  declared,  "I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor — no,  I'll  give  you  a  Spaniard's  oath — I  swear, 
by  the  virtue  of  my  dead  mother  and  the  honor  of  my 
dead  father,  I  did  not  bet  one  single  centavo  on  Pan 
chito  for  myself,  although  I  did  negotiate  bets  for 
Brother  Anthony,  Father  Dominic,  and  my  servants, 
Pablo  and  Carolina.  Racing  horses  and  betting  on 
horse-racing  has  proved  very  disastrous  to  the  Noriaga- 
Farrel  tribe,  and  the  habit  ceased  with  the  last  sur- 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  369 

vivor  of  our  dynasty.  I'm  not  such  a  fool,  Sefior  Par 
ker,  as  to  risk  my  pride  and  my  position  and  my  sole 
hope  of  a  poor  but  respectable  future  by  betting  the 
pitiful  remnant  of  my  fortune  on  a  horse-race.  No,  sir, 
not  if  Panchito  had  been  entered  against  a  field  of  mules. 
Adios,  senores!" 

"In  the  poetical  language  of  your  wily  Latin  ances 
tors,"  John  Parker  yelled  after  him,  "Adios!  Go  with 
God!"  He  turned  to  his  amazed  associates.  "How 
would  you  old  penny-pinchers  and  porch-climbers  like 
to  have  a  broth  of  a  boy  like  that  fellow  for  a  son-in- 
law?"  he  demanded. 

"Alas !  My  only  daughter  has  already  made  me  a 
grandfather,"  sighed  the  president  of  the  Central  Cali 
fornia  Power  Company. 

"Let's  make  him  president  of  the  merger,"  the  presi 
dent  of  the  South  Coast  Power  Corporation  suggested. 
"He  ought  to  make  good.  He  held  us  up  with  a  gun 
that  wasn't  loaded.  Whew-w-w !  Boys  !  Whatever  hap 
pens,  let  us  keep  this  a  secret,  Parker." 

"Secret  your  grandmother!  I'm  going  to  tell  the 
world.  We  deserve  it.  Moreover,  that  fine  lad  is  going 
to  marry  my  daughter;  she's  the  genius  who  double- 
crossed  her  own  father  and  got  behind  Bill  Conway. 
God  bless  her.  God  bless  him.  Nobody  can  throttle 
my  pride  in  that  boy  and  his  achievements.  You  two 
tried  to  mangle  him  and  you  forced  me  to  play  your 
game.  While  he  was  earning  the  medal  of  honor  from 
Congress,  I  sat  around  planning  to  parcel  out  his  ranch 
to  a  passel  of  Japs.  I'll  never  be  done  with  hating  my 
self." 

That  night  at  the  hacienda,  Don  Mike,  taking  ad- 


370  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

vantage  of  Kay's  momentary  absence,  drew  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Parker  aside. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  ask  you  both  for  permission 
to  seek  your  daughter's  hand  in  marriage,"  he  an 
nounced  with  that  charming,  old-fashioned  Castilian 
courtliness  which  never  failed  to  impress  Mrs.  Parker. 
Without  an  instant's  hesitation  she  lifted  her  hand 
some  face  and  kissed  him. 

"I  move  we  make  it  unanimous,"  Parker  suggested, 
and  gripped  Don  Mike's  hand. 

"Fine,"  Don  Mike  cried  happily.  He  was  no  longer 
the  least  bit  Castilian;  he  was  all  Gaelic- American. 
"Please  clear  out  and  let  me  have  air,"  he  pleaded, 
and  fled  from  the  room.  In  the  garden  he  met  Kay, 
and  without  an  instant's  hesitation  took  her  by  the 
arm  and  led  her  over  to  the  sweet  lime  tree. 

"Kay,"  he  began,  "on  such  a  moonlit  night  as  this, 
on  this  same  spot,  my  father  asked  my  mother  to  marry 
him.  Kay,  dear,  I  love  you.  I  always  shall.  I  have 
never  been  in  love  before  and  I  shall  never  be  in  love 
again.  There's  just  enough  Celt  in  me  to  make  me  a 
one-girl  man,  and  since  that  day  on  the  train  when  you 
cut  my  roast  beef  because  my  hand  was  crippled,  you've 
been  the  one  girl  in  the  world  for  me.  Until  to-day, 
however,  I  did  not  have  the  right  to  tell  you  this  and 
to  ask  you,  as  I  now  do,  if  you  love  me  enough  to  marry 
me ;  if  you  think  you  could  manage  to  live  with  me  here 
most  of  the  time — after  I've  restored  the  old  place 
somewhat.  Will  you  marry  me,  Kay — ah,  you  will,  you 
will!" 

She  was  in  his  arms,  her  flower  face  upturned  to  his 
for  his  first  kiss. 

They  were  married  in  the  quaint,  old-world  chapel  of 


THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR  371 

the  now  restored  Mission  de  la  Madre  Dolorosa  by 
Father  Dominic,  and  in  accordance  with  ancient  custom, 
revived  for  the  last  time,  the  master  of  Palomar  gave 
his  long-delayed  fiesta  and  barbecue,  and  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  honest  men  and  wastrels,  the  genie  and  the 
peons  of  San  Marcos  County  came  to  dance  at  his  wed 
ding. 

Their  wedding  night  Don  Mike  and  his  bride  spent, 
unattended  save  for  Pablo  and  Carolina,  in  the 
home  of  his  ancestors.  It  was  still  daylight  when  they 
found  themselves  speeding  the  last  departing  wedding 
guest;  hand  in  hand  they  seated  themselves  on  the  old 
bench  under  the  catalpa  tree  and  gazed  down  into  the 
valley.  There  fell  between  them  the  old  sweet  silence 
that  comes  when  hearts  are  too  filled  with  happiness 
to  find  expression  in  words.  From  the  Mission  de  la 
Madre  Dolorosa  there  floated  up  to  them  the  mellow 
music  of  the  Angelus;  the  hills  far  to  the  west  were 
still  alight  on  their  crests,  although  the  shadows  were 
long  in  the  valley,  and  Don  Mike,  gazing  down  on  his 
kingdom  regained,  felt  his  heart  filled  to  overflowing. 

His  wife  interrupted  his  meditations.  He  was  to 
learn  later  that  this  is  a  habit  of  all  wives. 

"Miguel,  dear,  what  are  you  thinking  about  ?" 

"I  cannot  take  time  to  tell  you  now,  Kay,  because 
my  thoughts,  if  transmuted  into  print,  would  fill  a  book. 
Mostly,  however,  I  have  been  thinking  how  happy  and 
fortunate  I  am,  and  how  much  I  love  you  and  that — 
yonder.  And  when  I  look  at  it  I  am  reminded  that  but 
for  you  it  would  not  be  mine.  Mine?  I  loathe  the  word. 
From  this  day  forward — ours  !  I  have  had  the  ranch 
homesteaded,  little  wife.  It  belongs  to  us  both  now. 
I  owed  you  so  much  that  I  could  never  repay  in  cash — 


372  THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

and  I  couldn't  speak  about  it  until  I  had  the  right — 
and  now  that  Bill  Conway  has  taken  up  all  of  his  prom 
issory  notes  to  you,  and  his  suit  against  your  father 
has  been  dismissed  and  we've  all  smoked  the  pipe  of 
peace,  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  cannot  keep 
a  secret  any  longer.  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  you  loved 
me  so  you  wouldn't  let  them  hurt  me,  would  you?" 

She  was  holding  his  hand  in  both  of  hers  and  she  bent 
now  and  kissed  the  old  red  scar  in  the  old  tender,  ador 
ing  way ;  but  said  nothing.  So  he  was  moved  to  query : 

"And  you,  little  wife — what  are  you  thinking  of 
now?" 

"I  was  thinking,  my  husband,  of  the  words  of  Ruth : 
'Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  and  to  return  from  fol 
lowing  after  thee :  for  whither  thou  goest  I  will  go ;  and 
where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge ;  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people  and  thy  God  my  God.  Where  thou  diest  will  I 
die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried ;  the  Lord  do  so  to  me, 
and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me.'  " 


THE  END 


3868 


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